


Only Seventeen

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-02
Updated: 2005-06-03
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin's new in a town he doesn't like very much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Author's note: Thanks to CJ for being a great beta. I'm posting two chapters tonight and your reviews will tell me if I need to post any more. I hope you like the story and thanks for reading.

* * *

*~*~ Justin’s POV ~*~*

It’s the end of the summer 2004, and my mom decides it’s a great idea to move to Pittsburgh. I can’t even say the name without a shudder. We left sunny, warm, and colorful Los Angeles for cold, dark, and dank Pittsburgh. I told her that dad banging his secretary --whom I might add graduated when I was a freshman—was no reason for her to have a midlife crisis and pack our life into a U-Haul. 

She disagreed. 

What do I know? I’m only 17.

So, after driving for close to 38 hours and over 2,500 miles in a cramped moving truck –I refuse to refer to this behemoth as a van—we pull into the parking lot of our new apartment building. Mom likes to, politely, correct me that it’s actually a duplex.

Duplex my ass! This place is smaller than the tree fort I had in the backyard of my last home. Or would have had if my father hadn’t been too busy boinking his staff to take the time and build me one. 

No, I’m not bitter.

“Justin, honey.” My mother calls, breaking through my thoughts. “Why don’t you help your sister with the rest of the boxes?”

“Yes, Mother.” I call back and follow her orders like the good country club son I was raised to be.

“What did you say?”

I roll my eyes. “I said yes, MOM.” She hates me calling her mother. She says it’s because I have a _tone_ that she doesn’t appreciate. I say she’s lying, and that the real reason is because my own father calls his mom that, and he hates her. I think Mom fears I’ll grow up to be him. A shit-for-brains liar who cheats on his wife. She should know that I’m not getting married; to a woman that is.

“Give me that.” I order Molly, my younger and only sibling. She’s ten and is just now getting to that annoying stage where she wants to be around all the time. It was okay for a while, but now she’s everywhere. I take the box from her and lug it inside, placing it in the kitchen because the living room is already full.

After unloading the U-Haul I bound into our new home and stake my claim on the largest room I can find. Then, settle for the next largest because my mom says I can’t claim the master bedroom unless I decide that I would like to pay the bills. I say fuck that, make the asshole pay. He’s the reason we’re here. 

“You really need to get along with your father, Justin. If not for yourself then for your sister.” My mom says in a snippy tone. 

And she thinks I get it from dad.

“God-damnit, Mom. Molly can do what she wants, but I’m not talking to him.”

“Justin!”

“What?”

“You can say shit or damn it, but do not take the lord’s name in vain in my house.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not even Catholic!”

“I am too.” Her voice softens a little and she casts her eyes downward. “I’m just a bad Catholic.”

I laugh and my voice takes on a facetious tone. “You haven’t gone to church since I was five, and even then dad and I would play ‘Hang-Man’ during the sermons.”

“I’m not discussing this with you right now.” She huffs and stalks out of my new room. She’s been doing that a lot more lately, ever since she made the big discovery. I really don’t understand how she didn’t figure it out sooner. I’ve known since I was 14 that he was fucking every great tit and ass within a twenty-mile radius. I assume she knew too, but didn’t want to believe it until she caught him in the act. He might be a great businessman, but my father left lots to be desired in the sneaking around department.

With a sigh, I fall backwards onto the mattress that is lying in the center of the room. The rest of my bed is 2,000 miles away in my old room along with my friends, school, and job. Oh, and the kitchen table. Mom says that it’s contaminated and we’ll get a new one. I’m sure my cradle-robbing father will be glad that she didn’t take his favorite place to fuck. 

I’m not bitter, I swear.

 

*~*~ Brian’s POV ~*~*

“Brian!”

“What?” I practically yell, spinning on my heel.

“I want you to promise that you’ll be good today. You’re 18 years old and need to stop acting like a child. If I hear one more thing about you...” My mother trails off, she’s standing in her bathrobe, hands on her hips, and her foot tapping expectantly.

“I’ll try.” I answer one foot almost out the door.

“Promise!” She orders.

“I’ll try.” I race out the door before she can say anything else. My best friend, Mikey, is waiting for me in the driveway, shaking his head. 

“Brian!” Jesus, what now?”

“Mom!” I turn and she’s standing in the doorframe giving me a look. I roll my eyes and make a cross in the air over my chest to appease her. “Mother, son, and the holy ghost.” I answer with a devilish grin before muttering a few profanities under my breath. “What a crock of shit.” 

“What was that about?” Mikey asks once we get far enough away. 

“She watched the news this morning.” I say with a slight shrug.

 

*~*~ Justin’s POV ~*~*

In the three days since the U-Haul backed out of the duplex driveway, I’ve unpacked and uncluttered my room. My mother still holds firm that I should at least talk to my father, but I have nothing to say to him.

She tends to worry a lot. 

I’m lying in my room on my sheet-covered bed. My mother is downstairs arguing with him on the phone over the fact that he wants to sell the house. Apparently, he doesn’t want to share the profits. I don’t know where Molly is, but I only hope that wherever she may be, she can’t hear what I do.

“Stop lying to me, Craig!” My mother yells into the receiver. “I have to deal with you because of the kids, but I got out of our marriage because of the lies.” I thought she got out because of the five foot nothing, blonde, bimbo Dad was fucking on the table. 

“I’m entitled to half of the selling price…I don’t care if you did buy it. I raised your kids there or did you forget?” He was never there half the time. “Fine, but you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” I hold my breath, proud that she’s finally standing her ground. Only took 18 years. “No, he doesn’t want to you talk to you.” Damn straight. “That’s crazy…No, I did not turn him against you. He makes his own decisions.”

“Mom.” I’m standing in the kitchen doorway with my hand held out. She questions me with her eyes, but I don’t want him blaming this on her. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You sure?” She asks, knowing the answer and handing me the cordless.

“Craig.” I hiss into the phone.

“Justin.” My dad’s voice is strong and unmoving. 

“It’s not Molly.” I remark with irony.

“Listen, son. I want you to know that this has nothing to do with you or your sister. This is between your mother and I.” He sounds rehearsed and I’m really not that surprised at what he has to say. 

“It has _something_ to do with my sister and I, Craig. We are a family and whatever hurts one of us, hurts all of us.” I wish that my voice could sound as strong. 

“I’m still your father, Justin.” I roll my eyes.

“How’s Bunny doing?”

“Justin, don’t do this.”

“You started it.” I know it’s juvenile, but fuck if I care.

My father sighs and I imagine him sitting at his desk, resting his forehead against his index finger. “Bonnie is fine.” I knew her name started with a ‘B’. 

“You know, Secretary’s Day is in April.” If you can’t be strong, go for being a smart-ass. “Did you celebrate it last year?”

“Son.” 

“Craig.” My voice is ice cold. “I’m sure you probably ruined the couch, your bed, but what about Molly’s and mine, were those off-limits?” Like a fucking glacier.

“Give the phone to your mother.” 

She’s still sitting on the stool, shaking her head as she listens to my conversation. I hand her the phone and head into the living room. I turn on the television, but mute it so I can hear their discussion. At least I’m not so obvious when I eavesdrop. 

“I’m going to talk to him, don’t worry. Goodbye.” She hangs up and I hope that he wasn’t finished. I hear her sigh and the echo of her footsteps get louder as she nears the room. 

“Justin, that was uncalled for.” She’s leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her. “A civilized conversation would do you two good.”

“I was civilized. I never once took the lord’s name in vain.” I smile at her, but she isn’t finding it funny.

“Be nicer next time, okay?” 

“Whatever.” I answer unmuting the television, drowning her out, but not succeeding very well with my own thoughts. He has an affair with a girl that’s young enough to be his daughter, ruining our family and my life in the process, but she still wants me to have a relationship with him. It confuses the shit out of me.

But what do I know? I’m only 17.


	2. Only Seventeen

Author's note: Just wanted to say thanks for reading and hope you all want more.

* * *

*~*~ Justin’s POV ~*~*

My mother finally got tired of seeing me mope around the house and ordered me to find something to do. I argued that I was doing what I wanted to do and as such, should be left alone. She ignored me and started ranting about a place she had discovered while searching for a new job. Then, she nicely segued into how I should find a job also, which brought us back around to me getting out of the house. She’s an amazing woman, let me tell you. 

That is how I found myself standing in front of the Liberty Diner. My mother had drove past it on her way to work. She said that “my kind of people” worked and ate there. It still amazes me that she has a hard time saying gay. Instead, I get “your people” or “them”, but I’ve gotten used to it by now. 

She was correct, though, in her assumption that we gay people frequent this spot. Heaving a sigh, I push open the door and find myself in a different world. It’s nicer in here and I find myself slightly reminded of Dorothy’s trip into Oz. The people are animated and in full technicolor. A woman behind the counter immediately catches my eye because of her boisterous red wig and loud mannerisms. I like her and I don’t even know her. 

“Excuse me.” I say meekly. 

“Just a second, kiddo.” And she’s off. I take a seat on the stool to my right and glance at the specials. I’m not really hungry, didn’t plan on coming here to eat, but for reasons unknown to me it seems rude to just run out. Patiently, I wait for the red-haired woman to finish with whatever she’s doing and come back to me. 

Finally, she returns and I find myself once again flustered. “I’m Deb, what can I get for ya?” My mother would be frowning and turning a horrible shade of crimson if she could see me now. All those years of WASPy upbringing cumulating to this horrible display.

“I just need an application.” I say it so fast that I don’t even understand myself, and I’m the one who chose the words. 

She looks me up and down before a smile plays across her face “Well, Sunshine, I think we might be able to do something for you.”

Sunshine?

“Really?” I ask eagerly. I didn’t even want to come here, but I wouldn’t want to go home empty-handed. 

“Stand up.”

I do and Deb has me turn around, which I find extremely odd, but what the fuck, I’m up for anything. 

“Yeah, we could definitely find something for you. Ever bussed before?”

“Like tables?”

“No, like the big yellow things that pick you up for school. Yes, tables!” She guffaws at her own joke.

“Once or twice at the club.” I cringe with the realization that I just gave her my whole life story with that one word. 

“Rich boy, huh?” Shit!

“Not so much.”

“Well, whatever you are, as long as you can pick up cups, and plates, and put ‘em in a bin we could use you. School’s starting soon and we won’t be able to work our current bus boy as much.”

I immediately wonder whom that might be and if he’s hot. I don’t have long to wait though because she calls him over with a screech.

“This, here, is Brian. Brian, this is…Hey, what’s your name, Sunshine?”

“Justin.” I answer as I gape at the Greek-God life form in front of me. What I wouldn’t do to run my tongue down his…Focus! I extend my hand and he shakes it firmly with a rough hand, which tells me a lot about him. He’s a working boy and has been most of his life. 

“Brian, this is Justin. He’s our newest bus boy.” Deb grins broadly and I realize that Pittsburgh has just gotten a tad brighter. 

 

*~*~ Brian’s POV ~*~*

“We got a new bus boy at work.” I tell Mikey after my shift ends. He’s lying on my bed intently reading the newest Astro Man comic. I don’t know why he’s still reading those things; we’re almost in college.

“Yeah, Ma might have mentioned it.”

“I bet she did. She tell you he’s hot?”

“Yeah, she might have mentioned it.”

“She tell you I fucked him against the counter?”

“Yeah, she might’ve mention…you did what?” He looks up with his mouth hanging open.

“Just testing.” I give him a tongue-in-cheek smirk. 

“Asshole.” He mutters, turning the page on his comic. 

I roll over on my back and stick a cigarette into the side of my mouth, scrounge in my pocket for my lighter, and inhale deeply when I finally find it. I exhale, slowly, and watch the smoke swirl towards the ceiling, contemplating the newest Liberty Diner arrival. He’s a country boy and I don’t mean the honky-tonk kind. I take another drag off the cig before tapping Mikey and handing it to him.

“Not this time. Ma would freak if she smelled smoke on me again.” 

I roll my eyes. “Mikey, you are so pathetic.” 

He smiles and goes back to reading his comic.

“How’s life at the Big Q?” I ask surprising Mikey as well as myself. I’m not usually one for idle chitchat. 

“Same old shit on a new day.” He shrugs. “The dyke got passed up for another promotion. Sometimes, I wonder why she even bothers.”

It’s my turn to shrug.

Mikey closes the comic and turns onto his side, stares at me intently, which makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to read your mind.” He answers plainly, like, I should have already known.

“Another Astro Man trick?”

“It’s _Captain_ Astro and no, just my trick.”

I sit up and take the last drag off the cig before stubbing it into the ashtray. “Speaking of tricks. You up for Babylon tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Mikey hesitates, but I know exactly what to say to get him to do what I want.

“Fine.” I mock. “I guess I’ll just take the blond-bombshell-bus-boy.” I laugh to myself imagining the total un-country club atmosphere of Babylon.

Mikey rolls his eyes and agrees to go. I knew he would.


	3. Only Seventeen

Thanks for all the reviews! And thanks to CJ for the help.

* * *

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I wake up and immediately hear my mother arguing once again on the phone. Glancing at the clock next to my mattress on the floor, I see that it’s half past eight. Mom’s late for work again and I have a pretty good idea whose fault that is. I don’t have to start until one and the idea to pull the covers over my head and fall back asleep crosses my mind, but my stomach gurgles and the urge to piss overpowers. With a grunt and groan, I heave myself off the mattress and to the door.

I hate mornings. 

Her words get louder and her voice harsher with each of my steps toward the kitchen. I wave slightly when I’m in her line of sight and head for the refrigerator. She’s used to me being there during her tirades and frankly, I think she likes that I’m on her side. So much so, that she’s almost stopped bugging me about talking to him. I think my mother realizes that it’s not going to help any because I don’t want it to; that when I do, I will, but until then, leave me the fuck alone.

While pouring my glass of orange juice, I turn my attention back to her conversation and discover that, surprise, it’s the same thing they’ve been fighting about for the last three months and probably before that.

Money.

Or our lack of it, more likely. He sold the house a week after we moved and fought tooth and nail for the profits, but Mom’s lawyer chewed him another asshole and my sperm-donor relented. Now, he refuses to pay child-support for me because I turn 18 in less than a year. His belief is that I should be pulling my own weight and thus not needing any further assistance.

He’s an ass and I tell him every chance I get. 

I, also, tell him that I do pull my own weight, which is more than his sorry ass can say considering his parents paid for everything. He kindly reminds me that mine did also until recent developments. Did I forget to mention that along with my bed frame and the soiled Le Corbusier table, my $50,000 convertible –2004 Mercedes Benz no less—is sitting in a storage unit just waiting to get stolen? The thing is, I didn’t even want it. I wanted the midnight black Jeep Wrangler with convertible roof, but my father didn’t want his only son driving around in the fag mobile. Irony aside, he bought me the Benz when I got my license. Frankly, it’s mine and I really don’t want it stolen. I’d feel the same way if it was a fourteen-year-old Cutlass Supreme that’s seen more accidents than I have cocks. It’s pride of ownership, at least that’s what I tell myself.

“He’s so infuriating.” My mother screams and slams the phone on to the white countertop of the island. 

“What now?” I ask even though I know the answer. I figure it helps her some to vent her frustrations on me.

“He calls me and starts in on how he doesn’t believe you should be on his insurance any longer because he never sees you and you don’t want anything to do with him. I reminded him that it’s five o’clock in the morning his time and to be calling at that hour he’s most likely drunk. He said that drunk or not the facts were still the same.” She notices the forlorn look on my face and rushes over to give me a hug. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

I brush her off. “It’s not your fault, okay.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat and will the tears away. Just because I hate him right now, doesn’t mean he has to hate me. It’s kind of that realization that your parents aren’t going to always be there to make everything all better. “You should get to work. I don’t want your boss firing you for being late. Again.”

“I’m supposed to be the parent here, remember?” She smiles weakly and gives me a kiss on the forehead before grabbing her briefcase and rushing out. 

As I watch her leave I think, I’d rather be the parent in this whole fucking situation because truthfully, being the kid sucks. 

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

My eye peeks open involuntarily and is greeted by a wave of morning sun. The pounding in my head can stop at anytime. I roll over and glare at the blinking red numbers of my alarm. It’s too early and my hangover is too new for me to logically read what is right in front of me, so I turn over and attempt to fall back asleep.

No such luck. God, I hate mornings.

Babylon was a fucking dream last night. The backroom was full of men slightly above mediocre, drooling to get at what I have to offer. Yeah, my ego could fill the fucking club, but I’m digressing.  
I don’t remember coming home or how I got home. I’ll assume that Mikey had some hand in that. I’ll have to thank him, later. 

He wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t. Though, it’s not like I asked him to be my bodyguard; he kind of assumed the role on his own.

I role out of bed, leaving my thoughts behind, and traipse towards the bathroom. I don’t feel sick, which is a first after a night like last night, but I opt not to question it. Instead, I strip naked and climb in the shower, turning the water on and directing the nozzle at my face. Maybe this will wake me up. 

I hear Claire downstairs and she’s making more fucking noise then an elephant stampede. It’s fucking ridiculous. She usually knows when something is up and I guess today is no different. I walk down the stairs in my jeans and blank wife beater, looking hot as hell.

“Slept kind of late, don’t you think?” She asks in a condescending tone.

“Fuck off.” I answer simply.

“Fine.” She shoved another pot in the cupboard and then turned to look at me. Her hand on her hip and one eyebrow raised. “Don’t expect me to save you next time you’re late for work.”

That’s when I look at the clock and realize it’s later than I thought. It’s close to two. I should have been there an hour ago.

Shit! 

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~* 

I pick up a plate covered in grime and something slimy in the corner –I’m hoping it’s egg--, suppress my urge to gag, and toss it in the gray bin to let it mingle with the other grimy, filthy, slime covered plates. 

People are slobs. 

Between my huffs and heavy sighs, I move on to the next table. I hate this place. Mom says that it’s a job and to be proud of it. I am proud, sort of. 

“Not like the club, is it?” A voice behind me asks. I roll my eyes, which I have a tendency to do lately and turn around. What’s the use in trying to cover it up? My whole persona screams ‘Country Club’. I have that well-groomed, nicely spoken manner that only comes with good training. I like to refer to it as brainwashing, but that’s just me.

“Not exactly.” I answer with a tongue in cheek smile. The recipient of that facetious tone isn’t who I expected it to be. My smile disappears and in its place pops a lustful gaze. Brian, I think that’s what Deb called him the other day, is standing in front of me in all his glory. 

“You’ll get use to it.” Brian says before turning towards the kitchen. 

“The tips suck, the people are rude, and the job is beyond gross.” I groan inwardly after I say it because he’ll probably assume I’m a whiny, little, rich kid, which I am, sort of, but that doesn’t mean I want him to think that.

“You work when all the customers are also working and only the hustlers are out. They’re just kids like us and whatever they make they horde.” He smirks slightly and looks me up and down. “Yeah, you’ll get use to it.”

He turns and walks back to the kitchen leaving me with a stupid grin on my face and a bucket full of wretched dishes.


	4. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks CJ!!!

* * *

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I have this newfound love for caller ID. 

I woke up this morning and found that the house was eerily quiet. Taking time to glance at the clock beside me, I saw that it was edging on noon. I figured that Mom was most likely working and Molly was probably sleeping because when she’s not doing that, I’m usually tripping all over her. I edged out of bed and made my way into the bathroom to piss then heard the phone ring, decided not to answer it just yet. I figured if it was important enough then whoever it was would call back. 

They did.

I let it ring twice before grabbing the cordless from the bedside table in my mother’s room. To my utter surprise and contempt it was my father who thought it was time that we had a little chat. Which is how I ended up here, forty-five minutes later in a never-ending battle of wits with a man I loathe. 

I so wish we had caller ID.

“Justin, we’ve discussed this.” He sighs and I’m betting, wishes he never dialed the numbers in the first place. “I still want to be a part of your life.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to be a part of yours.” I mutter a bit under my breath.

“I don’t know why you have to be so difficult about this whole thing.”

“Maybe because you chose somebody else over Mom. You could have stopped, Craig.” I can almost hear him wincing. “But you didn’t. Instead you chose somebody that attended my school.” At least she graduated, I add to myself. 

“It’s not like you ever dated her!” 

I actually laugh at this and not because it’s true and highly amusing, but because he still doesn’t want to believe what’s right in front of his face. I never actually told him that I was gay, but how could he not know? My son –the one that loves art, Mozart, and detests all things that involve any sort of exertion, well, almost everything-- couldn’t possibly be gay.

“No, I didn’t, but would that have stopped you?” The question’s rhetorical, but I know in my head that it wouldn’t because my father is, and always will be, a selfish man.

I plop onto the light beige colored love seat in the living room and scan the channels of the satellite for anything that is loud enough to drown him out. The idea to tell him I have to work comes to mind and I question why I didn’t think of it an hour ago.

“Listen.” I sigh. “I have to get ready for work. You understand, right?” I know he does because my father is a businessman. All work and no play, well except for the mistress on the side.

“Justin.” He pauses and I wonder if he really knows what to say, or if he’s questioning whether I’ll like what he has to say.

“Still here.”

“Tell Molly I said Hi.” That’s all? 

“Fine.” And then I hang-up on him because it gives me power, control, and because I’m not all that mature. 

 

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

The lights are flashing all different colors, bouncing off the walls in a prearranged beat. I can’t concentrate on just one, too many ideas in my head, and not enough time to put them in single-file. I watch the strobes and the lasers over head. They’re relaxing, methodically moving about the room in an array of color. I realize the reason that I can’t concentrate on anything isn’t only because of my thoughts, but more because of what’s going on beside me.

Mikey’s whining again and I’m finding it incredibly hard to ignore him. As much as I want to, his high pitched squeal keeps pulling my eyes away from the almost fuckable men on the dance floor. I keep telling myself that it’s not because of a certain blond that has recently been employed at my place of business. I don’t ‘do’ relationships or love. 

It’s all about fucking and pleasure. Minimum of bullshit, maximum of pleasure. It’s just easier that way.

“And then Ma made me clean the whole upstairs! It’s not fair!” Mikey’s voice rises an octave and I immediately feel the pulsing begin just between my eyes. Only he can bring on that reaction. 

“The upstairs consists of your bathroom and your bedroom, Mikey.”

“Well, there’s her room and Uncle Vic’s room, too.”

“And she made you clean those?”

He hesitates. “Well, not really.” I knew it.

I eye him and he backs down, knows that if he doesn’t, I’ll leave him leaning against the bar in a heartbeat. He hates when I do that. I glance at the watch on my wrist and deduce that I’ve drunk a little too much to read the tiny numbers. Playfully, I slap Mikey on the arm and gesture towards the door. He knows what that means and instinctively reaches an arm around my waist. I brush him off.

I’m not that drunk, not tonight.

We leave Babylon and the pulsating light waves behind and head into the deserted alley. I say goodbye to Steve at the door and follow Mikey out to the street. It’s early yet and I’m not quite sure that I want to go home. Instead, I signal to Mikey and we make our way towards the diner. His Mom’s probably working and I’m hoping we can get some lemon bars. Maybe they’ll soak up the alcohol roaming around in my system.

 

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

Brian.

He’s the one thought in my head while I’m talking to Debbie. It’s late, past one, and I’m at the diner trying to pick up some extra hours. Nobody comes in this late and I’m starting to wonder why I volunteered, considering I’m making the same amount of money as my usual shift, but at least I move up to waiter during these shifts. 

Deb’s waving a hand in my face, drawing my attention back to what’s in front of me. “Sorry.” I say sheepishly, ducking my head and blushing.

“That’s gotta be the fourth time you’ve wandered off like that. What’s going on?”

“I’m just thinking.” I answer. “About a lot of things.”

“That no good father of yours?”

“He’s one of the things.” One of many. 

“What’s he saying now?”

Debbie knows the whole story about my father and the reason I’m here in the first place. She’s the only person that I feel I can talk to and not be judged. I need a friend like that, no matter how old she is. “The usual. We need to get along, insurance issues, yadda yadda. He wants to sell my car.” I add the last part with a slight sigh and a downfallen look. It makes sense when you think about it, but I don’t want it to make sense. I want my life back.

I’m again so swept up in thought that I never hear the ring from the bell above the door. It isn’t until Debbie slaps me on the arm and hands me the coffee pots that I realize I have work to do. She smiles and points toward the table where the newcomers have sat down. Immediately, I recognize the back of the person’s head.

“Coffee?” I squeak out.

“Yeah.” Brian answers and turns the mug over on the table. He points to the regular pot that I’m holding in my left hand. Steadily, I pour the steaming liquid in the white mug. 

“Mikey?” Brian asks and tilts his head in my direction. It’s then that I see there is somebody else at the table. I recognize him as Deb’s son and a regular at the diner, but I didn’t realize he knew Brian. I always thought he was kind of geeky, not at all the person Brian would associate. 

“No, thanks.”

I turn and walk back behind the counter, place the pots back on their holders and reach into my apron to bring out my note pad. Deb’s been leaning against the counter watching the whole time, and I’m rather frightened as to the impression I’m giving her. I know she treats all of us like her sons, but I’ve never actually seen it in action before.

“He’s a lot to handle.” Deb says simply as I pass by her. I stop and turn to look at her, expecting a long lecture, but she doesn’t say anymore, only shrugs her shoulders and nods her head. It’s just a fact and whatever I do with it is my business. 

I walk back over to the table and take Brian’s orders, which I already know considering he gets the same thing every day. Mikey orders a burger, fries, and shake, which brings on an onslaught of ridicule from Brian about how many calories are contained within the food. I think Michael’s heard the speech before and doesn’t really care. 

After serving their food, I return to my spot on the stool in front of Deb. “I just served him some coffee and a sandwich.” I say aloud, probably more to myself than to her.

“Leave it at that.” Deb answers after a slight pause. Her tone again suggests that it’s just a statement; if I choose to follow it then it’s my business. “I’ve known him a long time, kiddo, and dealing with him is like dealing with a pack of wolves.”

I turn and eye her questioningly. I mean, isn’t that her son sitting over there with him. “You let Michael hang out with him.”

Deb sighs and turns to watch her son and I see the hurt in her eyes, the years of torment, and all the hard work she’s been through raising her son alone. Suddenly, I feel sorry for her, but then push that aside because Deb would have a fit if she ever knew. 

“Michael.” She hesitates being careful with her choice of words. “Michael and Brian are best friends and that’s all they will ever be, which isn’t to say that one of them doesn’t want more. That’s just all they’ll ever be.” It’s a fact, one that she’s probably hounded many times, but to no avail. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which person she’s referring to.

“I see.” It’s all I can think of to say and I’m not exactly sure that more needs to be said. We sit in silence after that, me thinking about her warnings, and about her son and the inevitable –I’m assuming-- broken heart he’ll end up having.


	5. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks CuJo!!

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*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I start school today and I couldn’t be any less thrilled. I’m attending St. James Academy, another prepetory school. My mother believes that I should still be refined and get the same education that I’ve grown accustomed to, even if she and my father are no longer together. I really don’t care either way and it’s just easier not to argue. 

Molly is sitting next to me, at the breakfast table, attempting to read the back of the cereal box, but her eyes keep falling shut. My mother is racing around the kitchen, attempting to salvage the papers she dumped coffee all over in her frenzy to make breakfast. At the same time, she’s lecturing me about the importance of fitting in and making friends.

“Mother.” I roll my eyes and start again. “Mom, I’m hardly going to make a very big impression my first day. Plus, who says I want friends? All they do is muddle up your time and demand attention.” Again, I really don’t care either way. 

It’s true, what I said about friends, I fully believe that they demand attention, much like a pet. Which also happens to be my view on relationships. A boyfriend is much like an animal, you have to train him, walk him, feed him, and spend time with him. If I wanted to deal with all that I’d get a fucking puppy.

“Justin.” My mother huffs, grabs a roll of paper towels, and blots the sopping papers. “That’s a terrible thing to say. You never had many friends back in LA and I always wondered why.”

I’m not quite sure if she wants me to answer that last part, but I’m taking the easy route out and saying no. She’s wrong, though, I did have friends, but they all wigged when they found out I were gay. I wasn’t exactly close to any of them, so it never seemed like a big deal to me.

“I perfected being invisible.” I mumble.

I want to get a shift in at the diner this morning before school starts because I won’t be able to work as many hours, now. It’s early enough that I can get to the diner, work an hour or so, and then make it to school. Grabbing my backpack, I race out the door before my mother can stop me. It’s still dark outside and a few hustlers are left on the street corners, hoping to make enough money for a cup of coffee. I wave to a few that are regulars at the diner and they raise a tired hand in response. Hearing the familiar chime above the door, I feel comfortably at home. It’s odd that I didn’t want to work here, but now I never want to leave.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Deb jovially calls from behind the counter. I walk over and receive my daily bear hug. “Shouldn’t you be getting to school?”

“I just wanted a shift before hand. I really need the extra money.”

“Well, somebody already beat you to it.” She points to someplace behind me and I turn.

Brian. He’s wearing a tight-fitting red t-shirt and black jeans. Sexy as all hell. Damn it!

I turn back around and Deb’s watching me with a slight smirk. She’s really enjoying this torture I keep putting myself through. 

“I see.” Is all I can muster and I begin to head out the door. 

“Sunshine.” The voice isn’t Debbie’s, it’s deeper and my name is said with more irony. I know who it is and quickly wipe the gleeful smile that immediately jumps to my lips. 

“Brian.” I turn and see him standing with the gray bucket resting on his left hip. He could be a trash collector and I’d still find him incredibly sexy. 

“And to what do we owe this pleasure?” He says with a slight smirk and a tilt of his head.

“Just wanted a couple of hours before school starts. I imagine that’s what you had planned as well.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You go to Penn State, right?” I think I remember Debbie mentioning it sometime, but I’m not positive.

Brian nods and places a dish into the bucket. “Yeah, I start sometime next week.”

He grins and I purse my lips as he begins to walk towards me. He places the bucket onto a nearby empty table and sidles up against me. I can feel his hot breath on my neck and a shiver courses down my spine.

“You look hot.” It’s barely above a whisper and I feel that shiver move towards my groin.

“Well, don’t you look cozy?"

I groan and turn to see Michael at the door. He’s rather annoying. Brian straightens himself and smiles kindly at his friend. 

“Hey, Mikey. What are you doing up so early?” 

“I just wanted to make sure we were still on for lunch.” 

Brian moves so that he’s standing by my side and I feel his palm against the small of my back. I know Michael can’t see and it relieves me. I don’t even hear the rest of their conversation as I’m overwhelmed by Brian’s ever moving hand. It doesn’t take long before I feel him tuck it in my back pocket. Bells and whistles start going off in my head, but I ignore them and concentrate on keeping my facial expression normal. 

Whatever Brian said to Michael satisfies the minion and he leaves with a slight grunt in my direction and a joyous ‘See ya later’ to his mother. I take the opportunity to reach behind and remove Brian’s hand.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” I ask with a slightly facetious tone. 

“Having a little fun.”

Damn him and that stupid grin! 

I move towards him so that I’m a breath away, and lower my voice seductively. “You did, huh?”

He nods and trails a finger down my shirt, barely touching, but causing the desired effect. I inhale, sharply, and am more than sure he notices, but he doesn’t stop. I believe that it cheered him on. I stare straight ahead into his hazel eyes, and strain myself to not look down when I feel his finger hooking into my pants. He yanks me towards him and I soon find myself in what I hope to be a never-ending kiss. I wrap my hand around his neck and revel in the heat that emanates from him. His tongue snakes over mine and I moan, which I know he has to love. 

“Jesus!”

Brian pulls away, leaving me stunned and a bit wobbly. We both turn in the direction of the cry and see Deb staring at us with her hands on her hip.

“Brian, you’re not being paid to make-out. Go clean the corner booth.” Deb taps her foot expectantly and Brian grabs his bucket and leaves, but not before winking at me. 

I turn to leave, grabbing my backpack off the stool, and am almost free when I feel a pull on my arm.

“I’m not through with you, yet.” Brian says before swooping down and catching me in another breath-taking kiss. 

“Brian!” Deb calls from behind the counter and I end the kiss, reluctantly.

“Don’t go and get yourself fired.” I smirk and push him away. The suns beginning to rise as I make my way to high school hell. 

 

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

I was finishing my shift when my thoughts wandered to an energetic blond. Justin might be young and a bit more cultured, but he has a mouth to die for. He was toying with me, I knew it, but I didn’t care. I’ll have fun teaching him the ways of the world. 

“You are a force to be reckoned with, you know.” Deb huffs and I attempt to ignore her. It’s a failed attempt, but one nonetheless. 

“You bet I know.” And I do.

“I don’t want you fucking with that kid, Brian. He’s got it tough and the last thing he needs his you and your bullshit philosophies.”

“And what are you? His mother?” I sneer.

“The same as I am yours.”

Damn! I hate when she pulls shit like that. 

“He’ll be fine.” I reassure her, but I don’t believe she’s buying it.

“So, what do you have planned today?” She changes the subject and I rejoice in my head. “Michael was saying something about a lunch with you.”

“I have to start that student teaching thing and then, yeah, I’m having lunch with Mikey.”

“Hmmm…” Deb pauses and I roll my eyes.

“What’s that for?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” She answers and I know that if I prod just a little bit more she’ll be spilling everything she knows.

“You don’t say.”

“What was that school you’re going to again?”

“St. James Academy.” I answer and wonder why that matters in the least.

“Okay.” She hums to herself and pretends to fold a napkin.

“What?” Getting information out of her has never been this hard before.

“I just know of somebody else whose going to that very same school.”

“A lot of kids go to that school, Deb.” This is seriously ridiculous and I’m starting to wonder why I even bother.

“Yup, but only one of them has blond hair and an ass that never ends.”

My mouth drops and I feel a headache coming on. “Justin.”

“The one and only.” She’s enjoying this too much. “You’ll be spending a lot more time with him than you thought. Isn’t that just karma coming to bite you in the ass.”

Shit!

 

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

This school is beyond ridiculous. When I arrived they ushered us into the gymnasium where I proceeded to sit through the longest and most pointless assembly ever. We were divided into grade, which I found rather futile because the students didn’t follow it. The principal stood in the middle of the court and welcomed us all back for another year, and started blabbing about how important it is for us all to get along, blah, blah. 

It’s all bullshit. 

He introduced the football team and congratulated them on a great season last year. He hoped that this one would be even better. 

Stupid jocks. 

Then, after he was finished introducing the new faculty, they ushered us out of the gym and to our prospective classes. Which is where I’m currently sitting, not listening to the teacher drone on and on about what he expects from us this year. He hands out the syllabus and I see that half the books were going to study I’ve already read. Apparently, this school is behind my last one, which should give me some comfort, but it doesn’t. It just bores me.

The bell rings and we’re again ushered out into the hall until the next bell rings, signaling the beginning of the next class. God, I hate high school. They treat us like cattle.

My next class is communications and I’m dreading it. I hate getting in front of people and talking, everyone watching you, waiting for you to fuck up so they can laugh at you. I slink into the room and rush for a seat in the back of the room, away from the teacher and prying eyes. 

“Hello, class.” A beautiful blonde says from the front of the room. “I’m Miss Peterson and I’ll be your communications teacher for the semester. I’m sure everyone is ready for the day to end. I know I am.” The girls sitting in the front row giggle and I groan. 

Miss. Peterson smiles fondly and continues with her speech. “We have a very special treat this semester. Instead of just me teaching, the school has taken on a freshman from Penn State to help with the class. I’m hoping that you’ll give him a very good welcome.”

God, I hope it’s not an older version of the valley girls sitting in front of me. 

“I’d like you all to welcome, Mr. Brian Kinney.” 

Holy-mother-fucking-shit! 

My teacher points toward the door and there he is, leaning against the door jam with that fucking smirk. He saunters into the room, acting like he owns the place, and when he eyes me crouched low in my seat, gives me a fucking wink. I smile back while inwardly I’m wondering if I could just disappear. There is no way I’m going to be able to concentrate now. 

High school sucks.


	6. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks guys for all the reviews and thanks CJ for being my beta. Next chap might be a little late. I sprained my wrist at work, so I'm out of commission until this thing heals. Love!!

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*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

The bell rings signaling the beginning of lunch. I make my way towards the line and grab a brown tray from the stack and hold it by my side. When I reach where the food is being doled out, I grab a juice from the cooler and ponder grabbing a salad, but change my mind. The food looks pretty good. Everyone is gushing about the mashed potatoes and chicken-in-a-biscuit. I think it looks like chicken soup plopped on top of a roll, but that’s just my opinion. 

“It tastes better than it looks.” A voice behind me whispers. 

I turn and see a nicely dressed, dark haired, young girl grab a chocolate milk from the crate. She smiles at me and nudges me to order. I hesitate and squeak out that I’d like gravy on my potatoes and the chicken biscuit thing. The lady in a hairnet ladles the yellow gravy over the food on the Styrofoam tray and then slides it over to me. I reach up and grab it, placing it gently on the brown plastic tray, then slide along and pay the cashier.

I glance around the cafeteria, hoping to find an empty table to sit at, but they all seem to be occupied by someone or another. 

“Come on.” The girl from the line says to me and practically pulls me across the room to a table in the very back corner. She sets her tray down and pulls a chair next to a younger looking boy. He’s dressed nicely in a crisp, white shirt underneath a blue jean jacket. 

Maybe he’s her boyfriend.

“Well, aren’t you just delicious.” The boy says with a noticeable lisp and flick of his wrist. He’s staring at me and, I fear, undressing me with his eyes.

Maybe not so much.

I sit down and open my juice, take a swig, and then unwrap the spork that has been so nicely provided for us. “I’m Justin, by the way.”

“I’m Emmett and this here is Daphne.” He smiles a toothy grin and I immediately like him. He seems so innocent and dainty.

I dig into the gravy covered chicken thing and find that Daphne was right. It does taste better than it looks. Listening to the conversation between Daphne and Emmett, I surmise that he’s a grade below me and Daphne is the same as I. She tells him to watch out for the math teacher because his favorite thing is to give pop quizzes. I look around the room and see that this place is no different than my old school. There are still girls with three different colors of hair, piercings anywhere they can find a place to put a needle, and the uniforms hide nothing. There are anarchist patches safety pinned to backpacks and atheist stickers pasted onto notebooks. 

“Justin?” Emmett snaps a finger in front of my face and I realize that he’s probably been talking for some time.

“Sorry.” I mumble and push the food around on my plate. 

“Where the hell were you?” Daphne asks, a look of concern on her face.

“Just thinking, I guess.” I sigh. “What was it you wanted?”

“I just wanted to know what you thought of the communications class. I’m just a few seats away from you.”

“I hate speeches.” I answer truthfully and Daphne agrees.

“But more importantly, did you see the tall drink of water that was wandering the halls this morning? Yummy, that’s all I’ve got to say.” Emmett speaks in a language all his own, I discover.

“Brian?” Daphne asks and then giggles. “He’s a college boy. You know how I like the older men, Emm.”

Emmett nods his head and I groan. The last thing I need is a lunchroom discussion on Brian Kinney. Isn’t it enough that I work with the man? Now, I have to see him at school and then hear about him for the rest of the day.

“Justin, you can’t tell me you don’t find him the least bit dreamy.” Emmett prods and I shake my head not wanting to even begin down this road.

“I like to call it false hope, Emmett. What if he’s in a relationship?” I attempt to feign ignorance, but am not too sure it’s working.

“Unlikely.” Daphne snorts. “Besides, that’s never stopped him before.” Daphne giggles and nudges Emmett with her elbow, a supercilious smile creeps across his face. “He’s quite a hound on Liberty.”

“You know Liberty Avenue?” I ask somewhat amazed. 

“There’s not a gay boy in the Pitts that’s never heard of Liberty Avenue. It’s just the fun ones who go there.” 

“I work at the diner.” I tell the duo with a smile. “The Liberty Diner.”

“No need to clarify.” Daphne giggles. “That’s the best diner on the whole fucking street.”

“Which is how we know that the esteemed Mr. Kinney is not, and will probably never be, in a relationship. It’s not his style.”

I laugh and nod my head. Turning my attention to Daphne, I ask a quick question. “So, you’re not…?”

”A lesbian?” She finishes for me. “Hell no! I like cock just as much as Emmett here.”

Emmett flashes another toothy grin and pats Daphne on the top of her head. “Daph is the biggest fag hag around.” Covering his mouth with the back of his hand he whispers quietly. “I sometimes wonder if she wants to _be_ a gay man.”

“Shut up!” Daphne exclaims and playfully smacks Emmett on his shoulder blade.

“Well.” Emmett smirks. “It’s true.” 

I smile at my newfound…friends. I could be wrong about them muddling up your time, but it’s still too early to tell. If only Brian wasn’t at my school, it’d be much easier to mask how lame I really am. I could continue being the cool Californian that I purport myself to be. 

“Speak of the devil himself.” Emmett sighed his attention at the cafeteria doors. There stood the omnipresent Brian Kinney, wearing that same smug grin, flashing it in my direction. 

Jesus!

“Is it too late to crawl under the table and die?” I ask my two companions.

“And why would you want to do that?” Emmett asks giving me a quizzical look. I decide to ignore it and slouch low in my seat, wishing that I was wearing my hooded sweatshirt instead of this fucking uniform, and pray that Brian decides to not humiliate me. 

And if I know Brian as well as I believe I do, then I’m totally fucked.

 

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

He’s surprised to see me, again. I can see it written all over his cherub face and the way he slouches down in his seat, like he’s trying to disappear. Maybe he is. Not that I blame him; hell, if it wasn’t for Deb I would have keeled over at the sight of him.

I don’t know if I should strut over and demand his attention. He’d give it to me, but reluctantly. I don’t want it that way, though. I want him to run to me, to demand that I listen and focus solely on him, and not for me to be the beggar. I don’t work that way. I opt, instead, to go to the lunch line and grab something to drink before my lunch with Mikey. 

“Yoo hoo!” a voice to my left calls out. I turn and see a tall, lanky boy waving his arms in the air. He’s sitting next to a young, dark skinned girl with curly hair. She’d be all mine if it wasn’t for that whole gay thing. I smile broadly when I notice that across the table, Justin is looking totally mortified. I can tell he’s trying to not let it show, to bring forth his cool, WASP-like upbringing, but he’s not a good actor. 

“What can I do for you?” I ask with utter ease once I approach the trio.

“I’m Emmett Honeycutt.” He holds out his hand and I shake it before he moves on to further introductions. “This is Daphne Chanders –she’s my hag—, and this delightful treat is Justin.” I laugh at Daphne’s intro, which to any other person would need further discussion, but not to me. I furrow my brow and stare at Emmett and Daphne. I’ve seen them before.

“We’ve met.” Justin deadpans and I nod in agreement.

“Taylor and I work together.”

“Oh, we knew that.” Daphne offers with a sly grin, and it’s then that I realize they come in to the diner, quite often I might add.

“Why don’t you pull up a seat?” It’s Justin this time, which I must say is unexpected considering his latest reactions to seeing me. I do as he suggests, moving as close to him as possible without drawing attention. It doesn’t stop Emmett from giving Daphne a sideways glance and a raised eyebrow, though.

“So, what do you think of your new school, Sunshine?” He winces at the name. 

”It’s fine.” He mumbles. 

“Sunshine?” Emmett squeals. “That’s _so_ adorable.”

Justin groans next to me and slinks down further. He’s acting like a petulant child and I tell him so; not aloud, but I whisper it.

“Fuck you.” Is his nice reply only furthering the truth in my statement. 

“That comes later.” I whisper back, nuzzling against his neck, and planting a soft kiss right under his ear. I lean back in my seat, not wanting to give much more of a show than that. I know how hard it is to be out in high school, but I _don't_ know how it is to be out in a Catholic high school. Maybe they burn you at the stake or stone you. I shudder at the thought. 

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” Justin asks after he begins to breath again.

“I have a lunch thing with Mikey.” I answer with a slight tone of annoyance.

“If you don’t want to then why go?”

“Because it’s easier to accommodate him than hear him whine about it for the next month. It gives me headaches.”

“Oh, poor baby.” The blond mocks and I give him a stern look. He only smiles that thousand-watt smile at me, which I hate to say, will some day melt my heart. 

He leans in close to me and whispers seductively in my ear. “Maybe we can play doctor after you’re finished. I’m sure you’ll be a very, very accommodating patient.” 

I adjust myself in my seat and he laughs, knowing what I’m trying to hide. It’s rare for somebody to have that effect on me and the fact that Justin knows about it only furthers my discomfort.

“Calm down.” I smile before getting up and saying goodbye. I have places to be and people to see. Not that I won’t be taking Justin up on his offer and also, finding out where this sudden change of heart came from.


	7. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks to ALL..Here's the next chapter!!!

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*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

“Sunshine, huh?” Emmett questions with a slight smirk after Brian leaves. 

I shake my head. “It’s just a stupid nickname.”

“I like it.” Daphne is quick to add. “It describes you perfectly. Well, what I know of you anyway.”

Our table is thrown into silence after that and each one of us digs at the food on our trays. I take the chance to look around the cafeteria again to see what I can find. In the corner directly kitty-corner to ours sits a group who I presume to be the jocks. They are all wearing matching jackets and laughing over something that is, apparently, incredibly amusing. There are a couple of girls, neither all that pretty, sitting on either side of one boy. There’s just something about him that I don’t like. I don’t know why or how or what, but it’s a feeling that I get.

“Oh, Daph.” Emmett yelps throwing me back into reality. “It’s the Pecker of Death contest tonight at Babylon.”

“I’ve got so much homework, Em.” Daphne answers after swallowing a bite. 

“I’ll help you meet the winner.” Emmett singsongs and I wonder why Daphne, a girl, would want to meet the winner, a boy, at a gay club.

Daphne voices my question and Emmett looks at her incredulously, like he’s trying to figure out why she wouldn’t want to meet him.

I want to meet him.

The duo continues their conversation and it’s soon obvious that I’m not in their thoughts any longer. I have so many questions that I want to ask, but I don’t want to interrupt them. When I told my mother I perfected being invisible, I didn’t lie. An idea enters my mind and I know the perfect person to ask.

 

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

I’m late for my lunch thing with Mikey and he’ll never let me live it down. I really don’t understand this whole deal anyhow because all we’re doing is eating at the diner. We do that all the fucking time.

“I know, I know.” I say as I push open the diner door and see Mikey sitting forlornly in a booth. I throw my arms up in concession and give him my best smile.

“You’re only ten minutes late, Brian.” Mikey says and gestures for me to sit. I do and at the same time wonder who this person is and what they did with my best friend.

“Excuse me?” I ask after a while.

“I said you’re only ten minutes late. I’m fine with that.” Michael smiles and picks up the diner menu as if he hasn’t read the thing front and back a dozen times.

“Mikey, you met somebody.” 

“I did not.” He blushes, a sure fire sign that Mikey is smitten.

“Yes, you did.” I smile at him and snatch the menu from his grasp. “Now, tell me all the details. Starting with the length of his…package.”

“Not everybody fucks the first time they meet.”

“Well, not everybody is as talented as I.”

“Jesus, you really are a slut.”

“I am not.” I say defensively. “A slut fucks whoever they can find. I’m very picky.”

Michael smirks and lets out a small chuckle. “Speaking of which. Isn’t that your newest conquest?” He points a finger at the diner’s entrance and, turning my head to see what he’s talking about, I’m surprised to find the now familiar platinum blond. 

“I have no idea to whom you are referring.” I answer in my own special smart-ass way. 

“Right.” Michael agrees drawing out the word in a sarcastic tone. “You two seemed awfully cozy this morning.”

My mind flashes back to those wee hours and I can smell Justin’s shampoo, feel the contour of his pillowy ass against my hand, and I strain myself to not have a spontaneous erection.

“Though, I do admit you were right when you said he has a great ass.” Michael’s still talking and he tilts his head as Justin enters the diner, scanning the room for who knows what.

“It’s all right.” I answer back nonchalantly, feigning interest in the sugar packets on the table.

“He’s coming this way.”

 

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I knew that I was right when I guessed he’d be here. He’s always here. I’m just not too happy with the company he’s keeping at this particular moment. I sling my backpack over my left shoulder and trudge over to the booth in the back corner. 

“Hey.” Brian says, greeting me with a slight smile and a lingering look. He looks at his watch then back up to my face. “Shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

I nod my head and adjust my pack. “I skipped gym class.” Deciding to get right to the point I blurt out my reason for being here. “I need some information.”

“Such as?”

“Actually.” I hesitate. “I kind of need to ask Michael.” I turn towards the man sitting across from Brian and he looks kind of amazed. Though, Michael and I don't seem to get along, I know he'll give me the information that I need.

”Oh really.” Michael says and I can tell he’s stifling a laugh.

I nod my head in the direction of the restrooms, but he doesn’t move. “Privately.”

“Anything you say he’s just going to tell me later.” Brian says so sure of himself. Smart-ass!

“It’s true.” Michael agrees with a shrug and a wink in Brian’s direction. I huff and push Brian over in the booth. That decision brings an eye roll from the pushee and a chuckle from his best friend.

“What is it you need to know?” Michael asks curious as to what I, a prep school attendee, could possibly learn from him.

I didn’t want to ask this in front of Brian. He’ll probably laugh at me and never want to see me again. “Do you know of a place called…?"

Brian’s now leaning forward, The anticipation, I’m sure, is killing him. “A place called… what?”

“Babylon?” I manage to squeak out.

“Never heard of it.” Michael says a tad bit too quickly before reclining against the wall.

“Come on, Mikey.” Brian goads and I see ‘Mikey’ shaking his head at Brian, trying to tell him something with his eyes, but Brian is choosing not to listen.

“So, you do know where it is?” I ask.

“Yeah, we know.” Brian says his tongue sliding against his cheek.

“Brian.” 

”Yes, Mikey.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little…young?” Michael looks worried and I want to know why.

“I’m not young.” I defend myself adamantly. “I’m only a year younger than you.”

He shrugs and throws his hands in the air. I think he’s done with this conversation.

“Don’t worry so much, Mikey. We’ll take him with us tonight.”

“I’m sure you’ll protect him.” Michael sighs. “Go back to school, junior.” He pushes himself off the bench and exits the diner.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your lunch.” I apologize, looking at Brian with eyes wide.

He laughs slightly. “Don’t worry about it, though Mikey’s right. You should go back to school.”

I frown. “It’s the first day. I’m not missing anything.”

“It’s your future.” Brian states with a shrug. “Or lack thereof.”

I’m going to ignore that last part and instead focus on what’s most important. “Did you really mean what you said earlier? About taking me with you to Babylon?”

I watch as Brian rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s rethinking his decision that was so hastily made, but I’m sure the look on my face makes his conclusion the same. He sighs heavily and then looks again in my direction.

“Yeah.” He finally agrees. “Meet me here at 10:30.”

“I will.” I say with maybe a tad too much enthusiasm because he raises an eyebrow in my direction before scooting me out of the booth. 

“Don’t be late.” He warns and then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the booth.

Justin’s house  
9:55pm

I’ve been trying to get out of this fucking house since 9:30. I figure I could grab something to eat at the diner before we go to Babylon, but my mother has other plans.

“Justin.” She scolds, her voice stern. “It’s a school night and I don’t want you out late with some boy I don’t know.” She’s giving me this eye like I’m about to take this guy and fuck on her bed. I’m not my father; I’d go to my own bed. 

“Be reasonable, Mom.” I decide that calling her by any other name is not going to be productive in any way, shape, or form right now. “I won’t be out late and I’m an exemplary student. I can hold my own.”

“With who are you going again?”

“Whom.” Molly pipes in from around the stairwell. “With _whom_ are you going?"

“Shut up, maggot.” I call back and shift my footing. “Brian.”

“Brian what?”

Grrrrrrr! “Brian Kinney. I work with him at the diner. If you would bother to come and see where I work, you would already know that.”

“I work too, you know that. It pays for the food you scarf down, the clothes you’re wearing, which by the way is a whole different matter, and the roof over your head.”

“I know, Mom.” I do, but sometimes I want my mom to be a part of my life and that means dropping everything to at least venture in to see what I do when I’m not around. “And my clothes are fine.” 

I look down and rethink wearing the cargo pants but decided against changing for the fifth time. My shirt is just a normal black tank top with a button up white shirt, unbuttoned of course. My mother eyes me, up and down, a frown sneaking across her face, but she shrugs and I know I’ve won this battle.

I look at her and plead with my eyes. I know they have that puppy-dog look right now because I've practiced it so many times before. "Mom, please, don't do this right now."

“Fine, be home before breakfast.” What?

“Breakfast?” She nods her head and I’m still standing amazed.

“You want it earlier? Okay, midnight.”

“Breakfast it is.” I call over my shoulder as I race out the door.

 

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

The little shit is late.

“He’s not late.” Mikey’s voice says with a slight hint of surprise from behind me. I turn around and see him walking in with Justin and they’re standing a little too close for comfort. 

“Well, well, look who’s finally decided to come.” I stand and grab my favorite jacket, a beaten, old, leather bomber jacket from the Salvation Army, off the back of the booth.

“I got a little tied up at home.” Justin murmurs staring at the tiled floor. 

“Mommy dearest?” I ask.

He nods his head and until now, I never realized how embarrassed Justin gets when he’s around me. It’s kind of sexy, really.

“Let’s go.” I grunt and lead the way from the diner to Babylon only the greatest place ever invented. Justin’s tagging along asking question after question and Mikey keeps telling him that he’ll find out when we get there. I don’t know what it is about his enthusiasm for everything that makes me smile, but damn it all if there’s not one creeping across my face. “Pipe down, Justin.” 

“I just want to know everything.” He says with a broad grin.

“There’s only three things you need to know.” Mikey begins to lecture.

“Don’t leave your drink unattended.” I find myself saying.

“And if you do, never go back and drink it.” Mikey adds. “Second, don’t take drugs from people you don’t know.”

“Okay.” Justin says his voice losing the elation it held only moments before. “What’s the third one?”

“Never.” Mikey sighs. “Never go in the backroom alone.”

I snuff. “The key word being ‘alone’.”

“Brian.” 

“Well, it’s kind of pathetic.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase that, never go in the backroom…at all.” 

Justin turns quiet, probably a million worst-case scenarios flying through his head, and what to do if you get in one. I slow my pace and fall in step next to the kid, lean down and whisper softly in his ear. “Just stick by me and you’ll be fine.”

He turns and beams at me, earning Deb’s nickname. “What’s the backroom?”

“A wonderful, joyous place that you’ll never see until you’re old enough.” I answer back. 

“Briiiiaann.” Justin whines and I laugh, drape my arm over his shoulder, and walk inside the doors to Babylon.


	8. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but I've made this chapter longer to bribe you for forgiveness. I hope you like it.

* * *

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

As I walk into Babylon, Brian’s arm slung over my shoulder, my senses overload and I gasp audibly at the scenery. It’s amazing and to say it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, though it would be true, seems trite and cliché. There are so many lights and people, writhing bodies, one on top of another as far as the eye can see. Music playing so loudly that I can’t hear myself think and, I swear, I can see the sound waves pulsing through the air. 

I love it.

“What do you think?” Brian shouts in my ear.

I turn and give him a big grin before stealing a kiss. He looks taken aback when we pull apart, but I don’t give him time to think about it before pulling him towards the mass of people dancing. He protests, keeps shaking his head, but it only makes me more determined and I don’t let go. We find the middle of the crowd and I can feel the music in me. There’s nothing like this back home, well, that I’ve experienced anyway, but I never did venture down to West Hollywood. To be honest, I never ventured anywhere. I mean, sure I’d sneak into the occasional bar, but nothing as invigorating and mind numbing as Babylon.

Brian’s not a horrible dancer; I think he knows that, but he’s still sexy as hell. He’s not really dancing more like swaying from side to side. Fuck if I care, I can move enough for the both of us and I do. I love dancing and I’m good at it. Being here makes me feel free, like I can lose myself in the music, the crowd, and in Brian, and more importantly that I want to let that happen. 

Brian grabs my hips and pulls me towards him, grinding himself against me. Instant hard-on from that, thank you very much. I wrap my arms around his neck and move with the music, showing him that I can stand my own, that I’m not just some dumb kid. I can feel Brian, he’s growing hard against my thigh, and I fight the urge not to smirk because of it. He realizes it too and stops dancing. 

“I want something to drink.” Brian says barely loud enough for me to hear. He grabs my arm and leads me through the crowd to the bar, where Michael is currently reclining, sipping on a beer. 

I hate beer, but I don’t mind Jim Beam, Jose Cuervo, and Jack Daniel’s, well, basically I’m up for anything as long as it’s in a shot glass. I prefer vodka, but he’ll never know that, he might take advantage of it.

“What’s your poison, kid?” Brian asks.

“Whatever you’re having.” I answer back, which could be dangerous considering I have no idea what kind of drinker Brian is, but I’m fairly positive I’m not going to have a Cosmo in my hand any time soon. 

The bartender gives a wink and a nod in Brian’s direction when he slides the shots over. Brian does nothing so, I pretend to not notice and reach for my shot. Brian knocks my hand away and looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You sure you can handle this?” He asks with a touch of concern.

“I’ll be fine, Dad.” I answer back with a sweet smile. Brian rolls his eyes and pushes the drink my way. I grab it and slam it back, feeling the burn as it slides down. I should’ve known he was a Jim kind of guy. I make Brian order another and he does, but not before telling me that I’m responsible for my actions tonight. I already know that and am not quite sure why he feels the need to remind me. I down this one, too, and then another. 

“Let’s dance.” I yell and grab Brian’s hand, yanking him away from the bar and towards my moving body.

“Brian.” A whiny voice calls out. I forgot that Michael was here. Damn!

“Mikey.” Brian says, turning to look at his friend. 

“Are you going to leave me alone all night?” Michael frowns.

“Not all night, Mikey. Just most of it.” Brian smirks and wraps an arm around my waist. I follow his lead, but not before looking back at Michael over my shoulder and sticking out my tongue. I’ll deny it later or blame it on the drinks, whichever comes out of my mouth first.

We fight our way back to the middle of the crowd and I, once again, wrap my arms around Brian’s neck, bringing my body close to his, letting him feel the heat. His hands are on my lower back, well, one of them is; the other has wandered into my back pocket. I can feel my fingers playing with Brian’s hair and I wonder when they started doing that. Brian’s staring at me and it’s really unnerving, but I let him do it because I’m buzzing and a bit of a pussy. He sucks in his lower lip and his eyes sparkle with every flash of the lasers and lights. I know what he’s going to do and he knows that I know what he’s going to do, so I help him with it. Standing on tiptoe, I bring him closer to me and our lips meet, sparks ensue and we build a fucking fire right in the middle of Babylon. 

He has a way with kissing that rivals any other. He’s the snake charmer and I’m the snake, moving and gliding in any direction he commands.

Move up and to the left.

Swirl and glide.

And I comply with every order; there’s no hesitation. There’s no question whether I should or not, I just do and it works. _We_ work. 

“Gentlemen and Gentlemen.” A queeny man calls from the stage. Brian and I break from each other with a little more protesting from me, so we can watch the show. The lights above us have dimmed and a spotlight is fixed on the stage. The MC is wearing a sequined covered, black coat with a pair of red, leather pants. No shirt underneath just a bare, pale chest. He could have just stepped from the stage production of ‘Cabaret’. “Welcome to Babylon!” 

It’s quite the introduction if you ask me.

He walks along the front of the makeshift stage and one by one, ten guys each different, but still hot, step up and turn around. They wear only a pair of boxer briefs in an array of colors.

The entire time my hands never leave contact from Brian’s body. My lips are permanently glued to his neck, leaving trails of soft kisses from his ear to his collarbone. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Brian whispers, his breath hot against my skin, and I feel soft goose-bumps run the length of my arms. The ability to speak has vacated my body, so I turn and nod my head. I’ve seen all I need to see of Babylon. 

Well, all except the unexplained backroom.

Brian grabs my hand and leads me away from the festivities and towards the exit. It’s dropped a few degrees, but it’s pleasant outside. It smells like it’s going to rain. 

“Brian.” I say as we turn the corner away from the diner. He either ignores me or didn’t hear me, and I’m going with door number one. “Brian.” I say again and with a yank on his arm.

“What?” He says a bit harsh. He stops and drops my hand, looking at me expectantly.

I lower my head. “Never mind.”

I feel him step closer, the air around me smells of his cologne, and it immediately sends a jolt to my groin. “Don’t be a pussy, Sunshine.” He says before lifting my chin and leaning in for another mind numbing kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I wanted to ask him where we were going, but I didn’t and now I have this _thing_ sitting in front of me and I don’t know what to say.

We’re standing in an alley about a block away from Babylon and directly ahead of me is an old, beaten Corvette that’s on its last leg. I thought that it was a red color, like that of rust, when I first saw it, but now I realize on further inspection that it’s really just that. Rust. All over. 

“Get in.” Brian orders and I wonder for a half a second who he’s referring to because there is no way I’m stepping foot in that thing.

I watch him as he walks around to the driver’s side of the car; he’s tossing his keys back and forth between hands and not paying attention to me. He opens his door and sees that I have yet to move and says again, slowly. “Get. In.”

“Are you serious?” I squeak out. I can tell by the look on his face that he is and I edge towards the car, scared that if I breath on it wrong the whole thing will break apart, leaving me stranded in parts unknown. 

“Never been in a used vehicle before, Sunshine?” 

_Used_ is not the expression I would have chosen to depict this automobile. Medieval. Antique. Ancient. Take your pick, but used is at the bottom of the list, just after prehistoric, but slightly above aged.

“It’s not that.” I say with slight hesitation.

Brian cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head. “You don’t want to get in the car with _me_?”

I smile and stifle a laugh. “It’s definitely not that.”

“Well, what the fuck is it then?”

“Okay, how do I put this delicately?” I ponder the correct words to use in this instance and finally find my answer. “It’s kind of beat up and I’m just not sure it can handle that much weight. I mean, it looks like the whole things gonna fall apart.”

Brian groans and rolls his eyes. “Get in the fucking car.” 

I’m not quite positive but I do believe I hear a muffled ‘Twat’ sneak out between Brian’s lips. I decide to ignore it and chalk it up to pride of ownership.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Where are we going?” I ask once I’ve slid into the car. 

“Patience.” Brian says and the car revs and then peels out. I clutch the seat for safety, hoping that I’m inconspicuous.

“So, this thing yours?” My attempt at small talk.

“This _thing_ , as you so nicely refer to it, is a 1978 Corvette Indy Pace Car, only 6,500 made. And yes, she’s mine, all bought and paid for up front. She’ll be a real beauty once I fix her up.”

“Hmmm.” I say thoughtfully once he’s finished. I wonder why cars and boats are always referred to in the feminine sense. 

“What are you ‘hmmming’ about?” Brian asks as he turns the corner.

“Just wondering why you parked so far away.” I answer truthfully, well, half-truthfully because I’m not asking him what else I was pondering.

“So nobody will steal it.” He says it matter-of-factly and I contemplate telling him that nobody would steal this piece of shit if the keys were in the ignition, and there was a neon sign blinking ‘Take Me’ with an arrow pointing directly to it. Then, I remember my car sitting so nicely in the padlocked storage unit and decide that I wouldn’t want to hear it so, why would anyone else. 

“Oh.” Is what I come up with instead. Eloquent, aren’t I? “Brian, where are we going?”

“Fuck! You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

I nod, though he probably can’t see it. “It’s a nervous habit, I guess.”

He grins and lets out a slight chuckle. “Nervous, huh? I make you nervous?”

Extremely.

Incredibly.

Exceedingly.

“Sort of.” I answer. 

“Whatever you say.” Brian remarks sarcastically and then focuses his attention on the road ahead. 

The radio is on, but it’s turned so low that I can only make out a few phrases every now and then. It’s enough for me to know it’s nothing new, that it must be an oldies station. The kind that plays Dr. Laura and Delilah at three in the morning when the only people listening are sitting in the dark feeling sorry for themselves.

I hate those shows. 

The song ends and another begins. I can’t remember the name, but I know that I’ve heard it before. It’s by Rod Stewart or Bob Segar or Springsteen, I don’t recall which one, but I know it was used in Jerry Maguire. Chick flick. It’s soft and the background music is the same throughout the whole song. 

“You had me at hello.” I whisper, almost inaudibly, as the song ends. 

“Huh?” 

“The song.” I point to the radio as though it’s going to explain everything for me. “Jerry Maguire, you know…never mind.” I slump low in the seat and stare again at the road ahead of us. I have no clue where Brian is going and frankly, I’m a tad bit worried. 

“We’ll be there in a minute, Sunshine.” Brian says and starts to flip through the stations on the radio. I soon come to realize that the only reason that station was on in the first place is because it’s the only one that comes in clearly. Well, it’s either that or the religious stations. I agree with Brian’s choice. 

“Where the fuck are we going?” I ask again, but this time I’m more urgent because well, I’m fucking tired of being led places that I am not clued in on. 

Brian sighs and scrubs a hand over his face and back through his hair. “It’s a place I know where we’ll be completely alone.” He turns and gives me a sly smile and wink.

“We’re going to park?” I ask. “As in ‘Lover’s Lane’ and ‘Make-out Point’?”

“When you put it that way it sounds kind of hetero.”

I ignore that and continue with my torment. “I can’t believe you’re taking me to _park_. That’s so Fifties!”

“Shut up, Justin.” Brian states firmly. “Besides, I didn’t realize that your mother let you fuck in your bedroom. I’m sad to say that I don’t have that luxury.”

“She doesn’t.” I admit through gritted teeth. 

“Then, I think that my way works perfectly fine.” He smiles and I know it’s that smug grin he wears whenever he gets his way. One day I’m going to not see that grin just once during an argument.

I turn my attention once again towards the front of the car and see that Brian’s turning off onto a dirt road about fifteen minute drive away from Babylon. He follows the road and I see a sign that reads ‘Not a Seasonal Road’. It must be a park or camping ground. They don’t plow those in the winter. We reach the end and sure enough it opens to a large park with benches and tables. There are a couple of fire pits and about three more cars. Apparently, this isn’t a very secret place. 

“Now.” Brian says while putting the car in park. “Come here.” He unbuckles and I follow suit. He leans over and I meet his mouth with mine, our lips open and tongues intertwine, battling over the limited space. I turn my body; our lips never break, and bring an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. I can’t get enough and I know it’s the same for Brian. 

“Fuck it.” I huff and swing my leg over the console, mindful of the steering wheel, and I’m soon straddling him. Now, I have one leg pinned between Brian, and the door and the other pinned between Brian and the console. I’m taking bets on which one falls asleep first.

“Much better.” He grins and wraps his arms around my waist, rutting against me, and I can feel his erection against my leg. It’s hard and hot, which only makes mine harder by comparison. I want Brian more than I’ve ever wanted anybody. I banish these thoughts from my mind and instead focus on the feeling of his lips on my neck, my hands in his hair, and his on my naked skin. It sends goose bumps to my arms and I shiver.

“Cold?” Brian asks.

“No.” I whisper and pull him to me for another session. I reach between us, but the space is tight and I can’t get my hand to its destination. I shift my body backwards and hear a loud horn. “Shit!”

Brian laughs at me and I can’t help but to chuckle along with him. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” I say and while attempting to get off of him, smack my head on the ceiling. “Fuck!” I rub the sore spot and slide low in the bucket seat. My right leg tingles and I shake it to waken it up. This sucks.

“Any brighter ideas, Einstein?” asks Brian.

I glance at the watch on my wrist and think for a moment. Brian’s watching me, expectantly, and I don’t want to disappoint. “Actually, I do have one, but only if you promise to be really quiet.”

Brian nods and starts the car. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I still don’t understand why we had to park two blocks away.” Brian grumbles as we trudge towards my house.

“Because.” I explain as I roll my eyes. “My mother is a light-sleeper and I know she would hear a car starting in the drive way.”

“She’s not going to be awake is she?”

I stop walking and turn to look at him. “Yes, yes she is. I’m going to take you to my room and fuck you senseless, while my mother is twiddling her thumbs downstairs.” I turn back around and continue walking, mumbling nonsensical phrases under my breath.

“Who says you’ll be doing the fucking?” Brian throws back at me.

I ignore him as we round the corner to my driveway. It’s neither very long nor very hidden and my stomach is doing somersaults, jumping jacks and cartwheels at the thought that my mother could see us. Oddly enough, it only makes my dick harder. Who knew? I crouch low and lead Brian around the to the back of the house and point towards the back door. I whisper that I’ll open it for him in a minute and for him to wait for me. I, then proceed around to the front of the house, and use my key to get inside. I know I told Brian that my mother wouldn’t be up, but I wasn’t quite sure and didn’t want to risk her seeing us arriving together. I hold my breath as I lock the door and peer around the corner into the living room, waiting for a voice to startle me or a shadow to move. Nothing happens and I release the breath. 

“Jesus.” Brian whispers once I open the door. “I feel like I’m going to get caught and go to jail.”

Do not pass Go.

Do not collect $200.

“It’s making me hard.” I whisper seductively in his ear. His back straightens and his eyes darken. I grab his hand and lead him upstairs and to my room. Once inside, I lock the door and breath a sigh of relief. 

“Get over here.” I command and pull Brian onto the bed with me. He pushes himself against my leg while trailing a hand under my shirt and along my torso. I gasp when he reaches my pierced nipple. 

“Sunshine.” He says in a gruff voice. “I never knew you were so…kinky.” 

“Shut the fuck up and unzip your pants.” I say pulling his mouth towards mine and running my tongue along his bottom lip. He nips softly at mine and I moan, arching into his hand tugging lightly on my ring. 

I reach between him and undo his pants pushing them along his muscular thighs. There’s no underwear to mess with and Brian’s straining erection springs free. I’m drawn to it like a magnet; I can’t seem to get my mouth on it fast enough. Brian lets me take over, flipping him onto his back, and running my tongue along the shaft before taking the whole thing down my throat. Brian moans and arches his back, partly to remove his shirt, but mostly because I’m that damn good.

“Fuck.” He moans and it comes out so soft and vulnerable that I can’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. I said it before and I’ll say it again, I’ve never wanted anybody like I want Brian, but I know that if we fuck it’ll be different. It’ll make things weird and it’ll make things complicated, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

I stop what I’m doing and look at Brian lying naked on my bed. His toned body is tanned from the summer sun and glistening with sweat. I stop myself from reaching for my sketchbook and instead catalog this for some other time. Brian opens his eyes and sees me watching him. There’s a glimpse of a smile on his face, but he pushes it away and sits up, roughly tearing off my shirt and devouring my mouth with his. I unzip my pants and push them down along with my boxers to mingle with Brian’s clothes on my floor. He flips me over so that I’m now on the bottom and trails a wet tongue from each nipple and down my stomach, stopping only inches from my groin. He smiles devilishly at me before taking me into his mouth. It’s sexy as hell watching him as he watches me. He grazes his teeth along the bottom of the shaft and I yelp, but more from pleasure than pain.

“Shhhh.” Brian whispers and holds a finger against his lips. 

“Fuck me.” I whisper back and pull Brian towards me. He stops and looks around. I contemplate telling him there’s condoms and lube in the drawer, but he’s reaching into the back pocket of his jeans already. 

“You ready?” He asks as he sheaths himself and I nod my head, but I don’t think I’m as ready as I purport myself to be. I’m scared and I’m excited, but I’m not ready for anything that’s about to happen and that’s the scariest thing of all.


	9. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks to my beta CJ!! Let's keep those reviews coming!!

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*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

What Brian doesn’t know, and I don’t tell him, is that I’m a virgin. I don’t know why I bothered to keep it hidden because it’s fairly evident the moment he starts to enter. I cringe slightly as he eases in. I guess I’m lucky because he doesn’t ram in, worrying more about his own pleasure rather than mine. Also, because he’s slick with lube, but I’m not expecting the amount of pain that is involved and bite my lip to control any noise that might attempt to escape. I can see through my squinted eyes Brian watching me with his brow furrowed.

“You okay?” He asks slightly above a whisper. 

“I’m fine.” I reassure him and bring his face down towards mine so that our lips can meet. My hand runs the length of his back, which is now covered with beads of sweat. I pull him to me, wanting to be closer than we can ever be, and he complies.

“Your first time.” He states, doesn’t ask, just states, and it’s all I can do to nod my head. “He looks away and slows down. I thrust my hips at him and grasp for his, try to let him know that it’s okay, that I’m okay. “Jesus! You should have told me.”

“I wanted this.” I tell him and plead with my eyes for him to continue. “I still want this. Don’t stop.” He shakes his head and I can tell he’s contemplating it, but his face realigns with mine, and he resumes what he was doing. This time I can feel him trying to be more careful, to make it count. He angles himself to rub across that certain spot, once, twice, and then three times, and I almost lose myself in the feeling. He closes his eyes and I watch him, see for the first time how really beautiful he is. My mother says it’s an artist’s prerogative, but I doubt this is the time to be thinking of my mother.

Brian dips his head and flicks at the silver ring attached to my nipple, tugs it with his teeth, and looks at me with a mischievous grin. His eyes are darker than normal and it’s incredibly sexy. I’m panting, watching him closely as he trails his tongue between the concave of my chest towards the other nipple. My back arches and I let out a deep, guttural moan. Does he know how easily he can drive me mad? Make me want things and do things that under any other circumstance I would decline? 

There are too many sensations traveling through my body and I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer. Brian moves his hand between our bodies and grasps my hard-on with his palm, pumps it in his hand, and I definitely know I’m not going to last. I moan in pleasure when my orgasm hits and Brian follows suit, landing on top of me, attempting to support part of his weight on his arms. We’re hot and sticky, the moisture clings in the air, but when Brian attempts to move, I grab for him and pull him back to me.

“Not yet.” I plead. My eyes are closed and I’m reveling in the feelings that have just occurred. I’m fighting sleep, but the feel of Brian’s lips on my neck and his hand brushing the hair off my forehead lull me and I succumb to the darkness. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

I awaken, a smile plastered firmly on my face, and slide my hand behind me. I feel nothing but empty, cold sheets. The smile disappears and I know that Brian’s gone. If he was ever here to begin with. Maybe I dreamt about him and my subconscious decided it was a good idea to build it into a reality. 

A damn good dream.

An alcohol induced dream, albeit very vivid and graphic, but a fantasy nonetheless. 

Only when my alarm goes off, sending a stream of irritating beeps through the air, do I realize that it’s a school day. That I’m going to have to walk into the classroom and see Brian, knowing that I had the best wet dream of my life, and it starred him. Hell, he fucking wrote, directed, and produced it. 

I push the covers off of me and sit up in bed, immediately greeted by a throbbing pain in my ass. I know now that it wasn’t a dream. No dream or hallucination, no matter how good, can be _that_ graphic. The realization hits me and I’m not sure whether I should jump for joy or cower in the corner because as bad as it was when I thought it was a dream, the truth, the reality—I fear-- is much, much worse.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I bounce down the stairs, a dazed smile on my face, and enter the kitchen. My mother is sitting on a stool at the island, a cup of coffee in hand, staring at nothing in particular. I eye her as I move towards the fridge and take out the orange juice. 

“Your father called last night.” She says, turning to look at me. “After you left.”

“Oh.” I say, getting a glass from the cupboard. I roll my eyes and prepare myself for the usual morning after routine. “And what’d he have to say this time? Does he want money for utilities? Phone? How about he wants to sell my car, is that it?” I throw out my ideas and she turns her face away from me. I think I see a tear, but I haven’t seen my mother cry this whole time so that couldn’t possibly be.

“He already did.” She says looking down at her coffee, at the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but at me. “Invested the money.”

“Oh.” 

“That’s your bad news.” She says with a deep sigh.

“There’s more?” I ask. The minute I ask, I know it’s true because there’s no way she’d be this upset about my car. “Whatever it is, we can get through it.” I move away from the counter and set my glass down. My arm moves around her shoulder and she’s shaking. I’ve never seen her this upset before, except for the time she thought she’d lost Molly in Meijer. Mom looked frantically, screaming her name, and even had it announced over the PA system. We’d thought we’d lost her, but she was sitting on the floor in the pet department, a guinea pig nestled in her lap. One of the store clerks found her and brought her to my mom. We named the guinea pig Sneakers.

“He wants custody of your sister.”

I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. Mom’s looking at me expectantly, but the words won’t form on my lips. Sure, she can be annoying sometimes and sure, I’ve wished that she’d leave me alone, but I don’t want her across the country. Especially if she’s going to be with my sperm donor. 

“But…umm…He…” I stutter looking for the appropriate words in this situation. “Shit.”

I hear the echo of my sister bounding down the stairwell and cease my thoughts. She peeks her head around the corner, her strawberry blonde hair is pulled into braided pigtails and she’s wearing an impish grin. 

“Hi, Sweetie.” Mom calls when she sees what I’m looking at. Molly slides away from the wall and lays her head on my mom’s shoulder. She’s wearing the jumper uniform for her prep school. It’s long on her. 

“Is he in trouble?” Molly asks and points at me. “Did you yell at him yet?”

“No.” Mom says with a laugh. Then, she turns to me. “So, you had quite the adventure last night.”

I strain to swallow my orange juice, sputtering as I answer. “It was alright, just like any other night.”

My mom nods her head and glances at the clock on the stove. “You guys better run off to school. I don’t want you to be late.”

Molly runs into the living room to grab her bag and meets me at the front door. I usher her out and wait by the door to talk to my mother further. “She doesn’t know yet, does she?"

“No.”

“We’ll fight him.” I tell her, opening the door and stepping out.

She nods and pulls her terry cloth robe tighter. “Justin?”

“Hmm?”

“You forgot to lock the back door last night.”

My face falls as my mind flips back through the night. “I must’ve been so tired that I forgot.” 

“Whatever you say.” She’s smiling. I like that. “We’ll discuss it when you get home.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I drop Molly off at her school and then proceed to mine. The bell hasn’t rung yet. There are kids milling around, each complaining loudly about the time of day. It’s not that bad, though I’m still on California time. Mom says I’ll get used to it. 

I pass through the wrought iron gate and march up the stairs to the entrance of the school. I catch my reflection in the glass door; my hair is messy and I look dazed. I guess it works. The door squeaks and creaks when I open it; it’s old and heavier than most doors, probably the wood. 

I wonder if I’ll see Brian before class and if I do, how he’ll react. How I’ll react. It worries me and I run through my mind what I could say to him, but nothing sounds right. It’s never easy to say what you really feel until the moment has passed.

Then, my mind moves to the problem with my father. I couldn’t imagine life without Mollusk around. She’s annoying, always spelling shit for some ‘Bee’, correcting my grammar, but I’ve gotten used to it. I’d miss her. Really. He’s only doing this to take unnecessary jabs at my mother. It’s not enough that he cheats on her, but he has to take away her family as well. 

“Watch it, fag!” A boy that I don’t know yells. I didn’t realize I had run into him. 

The nice thing for me to do would be to say excuse me, but I’m pissed and opt for “Fuck off.” I don’t think he likes it that much. 

He spins on his heels and gets up right in my face. He has bad breath and I wonder if I should offer him some gum or a mint. He probably wouldn’t like that either. He’s staring, breathing deeply in through his nose, out his mouth. Sometimes, his nostrils flare. It reminds me of a bull. 

“You wanna repeat that to my face?”

My head is telling me to turn and run, say you’re sorry, but my mouth is quicker. “Fuck. Off.”

He grabs my jacket with a rough fist, pulls me closer –if that’s even possible—and spits in my face. It lands just this side of my eye. He loosens his grip and I grimace, prepare myself for a punch to some part of my anatomy, but instead he shoves me. Hard. The back of my head smacks against a locker. I don’t black out, but I wish I had. I wipe the goo from my face and notice that there’s a circle of people around the boy and I. Only one person breaks through to help me. 

Daphne.

“Thanks.” I whisper, rubbing a hand over the back of my head. It’ll be sore for a while.

“That’s your only warning.” He says, venom in his voice.

“Back off, Chris.” Daphne orders, a firm arm around my waist, the other balled into a fist at her side. “Jesus, be more of an ass.”

“Stay out of it, Chanders.” 

He pushes me one more time, I’m assuming for emphasis, but Daphne’s arm keeps me upright. She eases through the crowd, picking up my bag on the way, and helps me to my class. I thank her for that.

“Don’t mention it.” She flips her curly hair over her shoulder and bounces to wherever she needs to be.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I’m sitting in the back row of my communications class, a goose egg forming on the back of my head. I absently rub it with my fingers, wincing each time. I don’t know why I continue to do it. Nerves, perhaps.

Mrs. Peterson’s at her desk, waiting for the bell to ring, and Brian’s nowhere in sight. I don’t know whether I should be happy or upset. I’d wanted to talk to him, but who knows if I’d have the courage. 

Two rows down and one seat up, Daphne idly plays with her pencil on her desk. She’s staring at the eraser, attempting to make it balance on the lead. It’s not working. She sighs heavily when it falls for the tenth time. She notices I’m staring and flashes me a toothy grin and a wink before pointing towards the door. I look and Brian’s walking in, a stack of papers in his hands. He places them on the edge of Mrs. Peterson’s desk and then takes his seat in the plush arm chair in the corner. His hair is freshly washed and there are slight water spot on his shirt. He looks like he just got out of the shower. 

My mind flashes images of his naked body, beads of sweat glistening in the moonlight. He looks paler and more blue than what he probably was, but that’s the mind playing tricks. I shake my head to chase away the thoughts and immediately regret that decision. My head throbs and the bell ringing doesn’t help matters any. 

“Okay.” Mrs. Peterson stands in front of the class after taking roll. “I want each of you to think of a current event, something that has happened in your life, and then each of you will come up here and give a thirty second summary.” She pauses, giving us time to think of something to say. 

I don’t have anything to say. Well, I do, but it’d sound a little like this. ‘Last night I got rimmed and fucked by the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. It was my first time and hopefully not my last. I woke up this morning to not only find out that my mother knew the whole thing was occurring, but also that my father –who lives in California and boinks his 19 year old mistress—sold my car and wants custody of my sister.’ I’m gonna say no to that one. 

“Any volunteers?” 

Nobody raises their hand, so she picks an aisle and has them begin. I’m fourth and still have yet to come up with any thing to say. It’s horrible to get up in front of people and talk, but it’s worse if you get up in front of people and can’t think of anything.

When it’s my turn, I stand at the podium, and expect words to just fall out of my mouth. They don’t and I can feel the heat in my cheeks. “I…my…This morning…” I stutter and stall, but my mind is blank. The kids are smirking, their hands attempting to cover their devilish grins. I hear a snicker in the back corner and that’s the last straw. I race out of the room and down the corridor to find the nearest trash can. 

I hate throwing up. 

I turn and slide against the locker, feel the cool metal against my back. My head throbs so I shut my eyes. I hear footsteps and know that the teacher has sent somebody to check on me.

“Justin?” A male voice calls.

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” Brian slides next to me and slings an arm over my shoulders and rubs the back of my neck. 

I nod, though I’m not sure if I really am. I rest my head against his shoulder and he tenses.

“I heard about what happened.” Brian states with a slight pause. “In the hall this morning.”

“No big deal.” I tell him, reaching up to feel the back of my head. “He was an ass.”

“They usually are.” The silence lingers in the air and everything that’s happened rushes over me. I open my mouth to speak, but close it again, unsure of what to say. I just want to forget for a little while. 

“Brian?” He doesn’t answer so I take that as an invitation to continue. “Let’s go to my house and fuck. Please?” 

He moves his arm and stands. “Let’s get back inside.” 

“I need to escape.” I tell him, but he turns away from me and walks back towards the room. “Brian!”

“I can’t, Justin.” He says, his voice distant and eerie.

“What? Why?”

“Last night was fun, but that’s all it’ll ever be.” Brian pauses. “I’ve already had you.” Then, he opens the door and walks in the room, leaving me alone in the hall, and alone with my thoughts. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“He already had you?” Daphne says with a low whistle. “Damn, that’s harsh.”

“That’s what he said.” I answer, pushing my food around on my plate. “It just makes you feel about this big.” I pick up a green pea and hold it between my fingers. 

“Interesting.” Emmett says after awhile. “I’ve always wanted to be privileged enough to know what he says to the ones who stick around.”

Daphne punches him in the arm and turns back to me with concern on her face. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” I assure her with a nod. “I’m not some lovesick puppy.” 

“Plus.” Emmett quips. “You work with him so he has to see you.”

The bell that signals lunch is over rings and the next class is about to begin. I have gym. I hate everything about it and we’ll probably end up playing some retarded kid's game that’s been around since the seventies.

I say goodbye to Emmett and Daphne before opening the door to the locker room and throwing my stuff into a locker. I change my clothes in peace and make my way to the gym where everyone is already grouped together.

“Taylor?” A tall man asks. He’s got a crew cut, nice build, and there’s a whistle lodged between his teeth. He must be the teacher. “You’re new, right?”

I nod and he ushers me to join the rest of the class in the middle of the court. I look around and see the asshole from earlier today, Chris, I think. He’s leaning against the wall, not really paying attention, but staring straight at me. 

“…dodge ball.” The only two words I catch from the teacher's mouth. 

I knew it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Sunshine!” Deb calls when I walk into the back room at the diner. She rushes over to give me a hug and I wince when her arms wrap around me. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I mumble something about dodge ball and stupid jocks before walking away to grab an apron off the hook around the corner. She grabs my arm and whips me around. I wish she hadn't. My head still hurts from the locker, and now I have bruises and bumps in places I didn’t know existed. 

She places her index finger under my chin and lifts my head so we’re staring, eye to eye, nose to nose. She can see beyond the discoloration around my right eye, beyond the curtain that I drop between acts. Deb can see it all, sense it all, and she’ll call you on it. I’ve yet to figure out if it’s because she’s a mother or if she’s just got a gift for it. 

“That’s not all.” She doesn’t phrase it in the form of a question. Alex would never except that answer. “You did it, didn’t you?”

I act vague in hopes that she’ll drop it. “Did what?” I really just want to leave, to start my shift so that I may go home and nurse my wounds beneath the hot spray of the shower. 

“You let Brian fuck you.”

I don’t answer, which probably says volumes. Deb knows what he said to me, what he didn’t say to me. She knows how he broke the heart I swore I would never allow anyone to break. How I let him into my home and into my bed only to receive the ultimate brush off. Only she doesn’t say 'I told you so', or 'you should’ve followed my advice', or 'I knew it'. She only nods and pats my shoulder gently. 

I want to tell her about my father’s phone call. How he insists on breaking up the only family I have left out of spite or jealousy. I haven’t figure out which one is more powerful, yet. I want to fill her in on the boy –Chris something—from school. I want to tell her how he insisted on throwing the balls only at me during class. How he kept hitting me even after the whistle was blown. How I kept looking towards the teacher for help, but received none.

I want to tell her all of this, but I don’t.


	10. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with me guys...and thanks CJ for the help on this one. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

I’m sitting in the Novotny kitchen with Michael, going over the day in not-so-much detail. He knows that I fucked Justin; that I told him it wouldn’t happen again, but that’s all I’m willing to divulge.

“And.”

I look at him. “And…what?”

“And how’d he take it? What’d he say?”

“Never gave him the chance.” It was cowardly; I know this. “I had to get back to the classroom. He never came back after that.”

“Is he okay?” Michael asks. He gets that worry gene from his mother; I think it might be an Italian thing.

I answer with a nod. “As far as I know.”

The front door in the living room slams shut and I know that Deb’s home from the diner. She stayed later than usual and I’m also pretty sure by the shaking frames of the house that she’s pissed.

“Hey, Ma.” Michael grins. I nod my head in her general direction, careful to keep my eyes focused on other areas.

Deb ignores Michael and sidles up next to me. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“So you keep telling me.” I take this chance to raise my head, which turns out to be a very bad idea. I was wrong about her being pissed. The look on her face tells me she’s beyond pissed. She’s so far beyond pissed, she’s in the next fucking county. I laugh, which also turns out to be a bad idea, when I envision her as a cartoon character, smoke billowing from her ears. 

“You think it’s funny, huh.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. “Justin came to the diner today.”

“Yeah, well, he does work there.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“It’s none of your business, Deb.”

“Fuck that.” She grabs a chair and sits down, staring me in the eye. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? That he’s got it bad enough and the last thing he needs is for you to get in the way?”

“I might have heard that, yeah.” She’s not going to back down from this, so I might as well be cooperative.

“But you fucked him anyway.”

She takes my looking away as an affirmative, shakes her head, and I know she’s cursing herself inside. This isn’t her fault and I want to tell her that, but I can’t bring myself to speak.

Deb’s silent for a while and when she speaks again her voice is softer, but still has a firm undertone. “He’s hurting, ya know.”

“He’ll get over it. They always do.”

She shakes her head again and I see the same look on her face that Mikey was wearing not to long ago. “Do you ever listen to yourself? Isn’t it sad that you’ve done this before, that you know the routine. That it’s even become a routine? And for your information, buster, I wasn’t talking about him hurting over you, which he probably is, but nonetheless, I wasn’t referring to that. He’s hurting over his dad, the divorce, his little sister, and you have to pile shit on top of it.”

I knew about the divorce, sort of, but anything beyond that, I tried to steer clear of. If you don’t know what’s going on, you won’t cause more pain for yourself in the future. I guess that backfired. “I didn’t know.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Probably didn’t even bother to find out.”

She’s right. Nothing I can do about it now. Deb’s said her peace and removes herself from the kitchen, says she needs to go upstairs and take care of a few things. I don’t believe her. 

“What are you gonna do?” Mikey asks once she’s out of range.

What’s he expect me to say? Go over and proclaim my love so that his life has a tad bit more going for it? Not likely. “Nothing.” I say it slowly to emphasize my point.

“You’re just going to stand aside and do nothing?”

“Basically.”

He looks away towards the sink, the floor, the ceiling, and settles on a porcelain cat on the divider between the kitchen and the living room. “You might want to rethink that.”

I get up and exit the Novotny household. I’m not wanted there at this precise moment; instead I make my way towards Liberty where I know I can’t go wrong. 

 

~*~*Justin’s POV*~*~

I walk in the door of my house an hour after talking with Debbie, careful to shield myself from my mother’s gaze. She doesn’t need to know that her faggot son got his ass kicked and dumped in the same day. Thankfully, she’s nowhere to be seen.

My mother’s voice calls from the living room. “Justin? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” I answer back. “It’s me.” I don’t want her to see me, not like this, and not after everything that’s been happening. But I buck up and walk into the living room.

She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, the phone resting on her lap. Tears are streaming down her face, and I don’t want to know what brought them on. I can only assume that it was something involving the phone and my father, but other than that, I don’t want to know. 

“I agreed.” It’s all she says and it’s all that needs to be said. 

It’s then that I remember the conversation from this morning. My father wants custody of Molly and if my hearing hasn’t failed me, my mother just gave it to him. I fall on the couch next to her, too stunned to speak, too afraid not to. 

“What? Why? I just…” I don’t know what to say. “I don’t think…What?”

She doesn’t say anything right away and I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t know what to say herself. “It was the right thing to do?”

“Don’t say it like you want permission, Mom.” Who am I to make these decisions? “If you’ve already agreed to it then tell me why, but don’t act like you don’t know.

She nods her head and brushes the tears away with her hand. “Okay.” Another nod. “It was the right thing to do. I talked to Molly. She said that she misses home, that she wants to go back.”

“Then, let’s _all_ go back.” I’m full of frustration and anger. I turn to look at her, not caring what marks she sees or doesn’t see. “Why give up so easily? He’s in the wrong here! Don’t rip us apart any more than you already have.”

She flinches like I hit her or raised my hand to hit her. It’s not something I’m used to seeing and I don’t like it. “Don’t use that tone with me, Justin. I’m still your mother no matter how much you don’t like it.”

I’m far from finished though and ignore her statement. “I told you that we shouldn’t pack up and move, that it’d only piss him off, and he’d do something about it. I was right, but now I like it here.” Sort of. “And Molly has classes here, you have a job here, and we can’t just pack up and move. Whose idea was it to start a life so fucking far away?”

She’s angry, not pissed because my mother doesn’t get pissed, she gets angry. When that happens her mouth gets small and she stops all forms of verbal communication. She’ll get up and leave, retreat to her room or the kitchen, and the only way to not feel like you’ve lost is to leave first, which is what I’m going to do.

I stand abruptly and march from the living room towards the front door. She’s watching me closely to see what I’ll do next. 

“Justin!” She calls once I’ve reached the door and am turning the handle. “Where are you going?”

I turn and look at her, shake my head in disbelief that she would allow all of this to happen. “Anywhere that’s not here.” I throw over my shoulder as I slam the door.


	11. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this chapter!! Thanks CJ!!

* * *

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I walk for a while, unsure of where to go, and not really caring where I end up. The city seems like an appealing idea, but there are places I’d rather stay away from and people I’d rather not see. No, I’ll just walk and let fate lead me. 

I shouldn’t have yelled at my mother the way I did. Sure, I was upset and rightly so, but she doesn’t deserve that kind of anger. I could have handled the situation with more tact. It’s not her fault that life as she knows it no longer exists. Not her fault at all. At first I thought that it was, and I blamed her for everything that went wrong. I yelled at her for not keeping Craig happy at home, for not paying attention and letting the situation get out of control. In some ways, I think that I blamed her even after the move. I blamed her for picking a place so far away, and I blamed her for letting Craig walk all over everybody. Recent events have made me see that you can’t control people’s actions. They’re going to act the way they want to and nothing can stop them, but that doesn’t mean you have to agree with them.

Then there’s Brian. I’m not angry with him or at him or any other form. I’m not anything. I’m not saying it was a mutual thing either, but that I understand where he’s coming from. They get in with the maximum of pleasure and minimum of bullshit, but it’d be nice to let the second party know this before such party makes an ass of himself. That put together with the fight I’d had earlier –if you can even call it that, it was kind of one sided—plus, the conversation I’d had with my mother that morning didn’t really make for a great afternoon. 

The more I think about today’s events, the madder I’m getting, and the more I’m wanting to turn around and walk straight towards Liberty Avenue. Maybe, I could convince the bouncer to let me into Babylon and head straight towards the illicit backroom. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I pass the Liberty Diner, brightly lit, but not as busy as usual. It is a weekday, I remind myself. Babylon isn’t that far down and I can feel myself growing nervous. Nervous that I won’t get in, nervous that I will, and nervous about what’s in the backroom that Brian was talking about. Why wouldn’t Mikey want me to go in there?

I can hear voices chattering as I near the alley entrance. The lamppost on the corner keeps dimming, which casts an eerie glow on the pavement. I don’t remember it looking this scary before. I’ll chalk that up to excitement. I round the corner and immediately notice the long line to get in. I glance at my watch and see that it’s after eleven so I know it’s open. 

The bouncer at the door is a big guy, like huge, he stands intimidatingly tall. He’s the same one from last night though and I’m hoping he’ll remember me. I walk up to him, putting on my best smile. 

“The line ends there.” He says in a gruff voice, pointing towards a spot far off in the distance. 

“Actually.” I say craning my neck to look at him. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to wait in line.”

“Everybody waits in line.” He answers not bothering to look at me and I smirk.

“I didn’t have to yesterday.” I tell him. “I was with a guy, maybe you know him, Brian Kinney.”

He chuckles and looks down at me. “You and everybody else in this place.” 

“It’s alright.” A voice says from behind me. I close my eyes and turn around knowing to whom that voice belongs. “He’s with me.”

I roll my eyes as I see him standing in a black shirt and jeans with his arms crossed in front of him, a smug grin on his face. He swings his arm around my shoulder and I shrug it off. “I didn’t need your help.” I say once we get inside the door to Babylon.

Brian huffs. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”

“Look, I don’t need your pity or whatever it is you think you need to give me.” I turn and walk towards the bar. “What I do need is a beer.”

Brian signals to the bartender who brings over two bottles and places them on the counters in front of us. “There you go.”

“Whatever.” I grab it and take a swig, leaving him behind at the bar to dance. I don’t bother to look behind and see his reaction because I don’t care. At least that’s what I tell myself. I just want to lose myself in whatever way possible.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour passes and then another, I’m getting beers handed to me left and right from men I don’t know and some I do. They’re all unopened when I get to them; I’m not a complete idiot. 

“Justin.”

I turn and see Brian sway-dancing close to me. I smile and turn back to the guys around me. 

“Justin, look at me.” Brian says again, more urgently.

The guy behind me doesn’t like this and puts an arm around my waist, his skin running along mine where my uniform is unbuttoned. It sends shivers along my arms and to the root of my spine. “What are you doing to yourself?”

“I am a Justin sandwich.” I tell him proudly with a nod to the two guys flanking me. “They should serve me at the diner.”

“You are way too far gone.” He huffs under his breath. “How many of those have you had?”

I look at the beer in my hand; it’s a _Heineken_. “This is my first one, honest.” Of this brand.

He looks at me skeptically. “How many **bottles** have you had total?” Damn.

“I don’t know.”

“Sign one that you’ve had too many.” He grabs me from between the two guys and takes the beer from my hand, there’s only, like, one drink left. “Sign two, bad reflexes.”

“I don’t have bad reflexes.” 

“Sign three, you’re slurring your words.”

Okay, he’s making that one up.

“Time to go, Justin.” He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the alley.

“I’m not your responsibility.” I spit at his back.

“I know that.” He says looking at me with his eyes cast downward. “But you _are_ my friend, I think.”

My eyes are wide, unsure if he really means it. Before I can contemplate and argue with the statement, Brian is pulling me out the door by my arm. It’s darker then it was when I first entered Babylon and the line has all but disappeared. The bouncer is still standing at the door, arms crossed, and brooding.

“Hey, Kinney.” He calls and chuckles. “I thought you didn’t do seconds.”

Brian laughs and flicks the guy off, and then mutters something.

“Where are we going?” I ask, yanking my arm free from his grasp. Brian turns and looks at me, white, uniform shirt unbuttoned, sleeves of my blue blazer rolled to my elbows, and hair mussed. I must look so appealing.

Brian sighs. “Why does it matter?”

“I’m not moving from this spot until you tell me where we’re going.” I eye him, eyebrow raised, and arms crossed.

“Fine, we’re going to my car where I will then drive you to my house, so that I can attempt to sneak you into my room. Happy now?”

I answer truthfully. “No.”

“What?”

“Why are we going to your house?”

Brian huffs. “Because you are drunk and since I don’t know the layout of your house very well, I can’t take you there. Do you want to wake up your mommy and let her see you in this condition.”

“The way I feel about her right now, sure.”

“You won’t feel the same in the morning.” Brian says before turning and walking towards where the car is parked.

Once we make it there, I crawl into the passenger seat and fasten my belt. Brian turns the key and the engine roars to life. I watch the scenery as it flies past, hoping to remember this route, but knowing I’m not likely to.

“What made you come here?” Brian asks after a short while.

“Why do you?” I toss back at him.

“I’m sure for an entirely different reason.”

I sigh and shrug. “To get lost, in the people, the music, everything.”

“I guess they’re not that different.”

It’s my turn to ask the question. “Why do you care?”

“Just wondering, that’s all.”

“No, I mean why did you care how many beers I’d had, why do you care if I get home or not. Why do you care?”

“Justin.” He pauses to collect his thoughts, maybe, I don’t know. “What happened the other night, though it may have been just a one time thing, didn’t make it any less amazing. You’re still somebody that I consider to be a friend and I don’t want something bad to happen to you.”

“You mean, you don’t want that to be on your conscience.”

He smiles. “Maybe that’s it.”

We pull up in front of a two-story farmhouse, built sometime last century. It’s falling apart and nothing like my shiny, new, all-white, WASP abode. 

“Just follow me and keep your voice down.”

“Aye, aye.” I recite with a shaky salute.

Brian rolls his eyes and slams the car door shut. He creeps around the back of the house towards a white birch tree. I follow him closely, watching for anything that might make noise. Brian shimmies up the tree before I even know what’s going on and sets a steady foot onto the open window ledge.

“Come on.” He whispers. I grab hold of the branches and attempt to make it up the trunk alone, but I’m neither that skilled nor graceful. I fall a handful of times, like the bumbling and drunken idiot I am. Finally, on the umpteenth try, I make it to where Brian can grab my hand and pull me the rest of the way. 

We fall inside of his room, me landing on top, with a loud thud, legs intertwined, and mouths inches apart. I close my eyes and lower my head to his, allowing our lips to meet. I’m never one to waste an opportunity. Brian’s hand roams over my bare chest, around towards my back, and into my pants. He flips us over and slips his tongue over mine at the same time. He’s multi-tasking and good at it. 

Then, he stops, pushes himself off of me, and walks across the room.

“What the…” I trail off and watch him.

“We can’t do that.” He says and throws me a pillow from the bed and his comforter.

“Brian?” I watch him crawl into bed, my head spinning from either the beer or the kisses, I’m not sure.

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.” I throw the pillow on the floor and fan the blue comforter over me, pulling it tight under my chin. I’ve gotten to that place in sleep where you aren’t quite sleeping, but you’re not really awake either when I hear rustling above me and then Brian’s voice.

“Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“It gets cold at night.” He pauses. “Why don’t you get up here with me. My bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Without hesitation, I jump from my spot on the floor to Brian’s bed. I smooth the comforter over the bed and he pulls it back for me to get in. When I crawl in next to him, Brian throws the blankets over me, and wraps his arm around my waist.

He was right, it is warming up in here.


	12. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews I love them all even if I don't comment on them all. Thanks CJ, as always!!

* * *

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I open my eyes and wince, pain from the back of my head surges towards the front, a reminder of the night before. I close my eyes and can recall parts of the earlier night, but a lot of it is sketchy at best. I do remember one thing and a glance next to me confirms that. Brian’s still sleeping, one arm tucked underneath his pillow, and the other wedged tightly between our bodies. I slide smoothly from underneath the covers, careful not to disturb him.

I stand and tiptoe towards the opened window. It’s still early; the sun is barely peeking over the horizon. It sends a pinkish glow across the dew-covered ground. I watch it; try to feel its warmth, but the only thing I can feel is emptiness.

I let my mind settle on the one thing that I wanted to forget last night, the reason I ran. Which is exactly what I did yesterday without a second thought or a glance back. Run. I can see that now because I’m not afraid, worried, pissed, or any other stream of emotions. I’m not drunk, either, which is more than I can say for last night. I’m just…empty. Devoid of all emotions because I’ve already run the gamut. The decision's been made to send my little sister back to California and back to my father, which is exactly what he wants. He won. There will be more rounds, more battles in this fight, though. Battles that I won’t let him win with me or with my family. I’ll make sure of that. 

I turn away from the picturesque view and move my eyes toward an equally pleasing sight. Brian sprawled on his stomach in a bed that we both shared. The question that comes to mind is, how do I look at him after last night?

Do I look at him through the eyes of a hero-worshipper? Does what he did last night –knowing that I was drinking too much, getting me safely from point A to point B—extinguish what happened earlier in the day? Surely, without him I would’ve gotten into a situation I couldn’t handle. Would I have been as caring if the situation had been reversed? 

Or, do I look at him through the eyes of a scorned lover? Try to hide the pain from my eyes every time we see each other in the diner, in school, or on the streets? Relive the moment he told me that I was just a fuck and over-analyze his motives for stopping last night? Should I be grateful that we didn’t fuck again?

Or, even yet do I look at him through the eyes of a friend? Thank him for stopping me from drowning my sorrows in beer and Jack? Ignore the nagging sensations in my stomach and the pull in my groin whenever I see him? Concentrate instead on the fun times we can have, dancing, drinking, and just hanging out? Would I be able to do that if I so choose?

“Will you quit staring at me?” A groggy Brian asks into the pillow.

I clear my throat, unaware that he’s been awake. “Sorry.”

“Sorry’s bullshit.”

“All the same.” I answer back and move towards the bed, crossing my arms over myself. I stand above the bed, waiting for him to roll over, to peek and see me.

“What the fuck time is it?” He’s still half-asleep. I can hear it in his voice.

I look at the clock, realizing that I actually don’t know. “Almost six.”

“In the morning? Shit.” Finally, he turns his head and an eye eases open only to immediately close. “You going to school?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.” I really hadn’t. “Why?”

“Cuz.” He says, a yawn escaping. “You look like shit.”

“Well, thanks for the fucking observation.”

He laughs and I smile and then we grow silent. It becomes an awkward silence and I hate those because both parties want to break the tension, but have no idea what to say. Brian stretches and sits up, grabs my arm and pulls me next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

I play dumb because I’m honestly not sure if I do. “About what?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

I nod and get up from the bed again to look out the window. It’s brighter outside now that more of the sun has risen. “My father.” I say without realizing that I actually wanted to talk to somebody. “My father is a cheating, lying, bastard.”

Brian scoffs. “Join the club.”

I look back at him and smile, faintly. “We moved here because of it. They’re getting a divorce.”

He nods and purses his lips. “I see.”

I think he knew that already, but I’m not sure because I don’t remember telling him. I turn back towards the window. I don’t know why I like it so much, just a place to focus attention, I guess.   
I don’t think I’ll go to school today.

“How do you feel about that?”

“Hmm?” Since when did he become a shrink?

“The divorce.” 

I’ve never had to talk about it before in terms of if I approve or not. It wasn’t my choice, wasn’t my decision to leave. I knew that I didn’t want to stay with my father, but did I really want to go with my mom? It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.

I clear my throat and scratch the back of my head nervously. “I’ve…ummm…I’ve never really been asked that before.”

“It affects you.” He says it as if it’s that simple, that easy, which it clearly isn’t to me.

“I guess it does.” I walk back to the bed and plop down, pulling the top sheet around me. “I guess I feel the way every other kid that’s gone through this feels. I mean, I know it’s not my fault. I know that my mom doesn’t blame me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t blame her.”

Brian doesn’t say anything, he just listens. 

I don’t like the way that part of the conversation is going, so I change it. “I want nothing to do with my father and consequently, he feels the same way. He sold my car, wants me off the insurance, yadda yadda.” I feel as if I’m babbling, but I’m on a role now and can’t seem to stop. “He told my mother yesterday morning that he wants custody of Molly, my little sister. She’s only ten and just really wants her dad right now. She doesn’t realize how much of a jerk he is, or that things are better without him, or that we should stick together and be a family.”

Brian places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I think you aren’t giving her very much credit. I think she realizes more than you believe she does.”

“Maybe.” I relent. “I know he’s only doing it to get back at my mom, and the worst thing is, she’s allowing it. She’s going to let Molly go.”

Brian continues to rub my shoulder and I appreciate it. It’s calming and soothing. The tone in his voice is gentle, the brashness, the brutal honesty all but disappears. “You’ve got a lot to deal with, Justin. You should do it sober.”

He’s right, I know it. 

The conversation is done for today. Brian stands up and stretches, grabs some clothes, and makes his way towards the door. “Well, you might be able to lie around all day and do nothing, but I do have to go to class. I’m highly important.” He says the last part with a wink and closes the door behind him.

As I watch Brian leave, I realize that I don’t have to choose just one way to look at him. I can use all three because that’s the only way I’ll truly be able to see him.


	13. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Thanks to CJ for helping with this one. You always seem to know what it is I want to say. Thanks for everyone else for being so patient. I would have posted sooner, but I needed to tweak some things. Here you go!!

* * *

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

“It’s been how long since you woke up in Brian’s bed?” Emmett asks with his usual flair.

“I don’t know.” Two weeks, two days, and five hours, but who’s counting?

“Sure you do.” Emmett prods. I sigh; not anywhere near to relenting the information that I hold, but Daphne clears her throat and throws Em a sideways glance.

Daphne hisses. “Em, leave him alone.”

“Besides.” I say, putting my plastic ware on the tray and pushing it away from me. “It’s not as if we were sharing a bed in any way but the literal sense. I was drunk and he was being nice.” 

“Sure, sure.” Emmett says a bit disappointed, but he bounces back. “It’s not really the truth that fags care about anyhow. I mean they’re not going to dig deeper into the story to find out if you slept with Brian, literally or otherwise, all they care about is juicy gossip.”

“And you’re a fag all the way, aren’t you?” 

He nods enthusiastically. He’s been bugging me about this since I told the two of them it happened. I held him off for a couple of days by ignoring him and bringing up other matters, but the subject always wound around to Brian and I. The look on his face is pleading and priceless.

“You’re not going to give up on this?”

“Probably not.”

“Fine.” I say my forehead connecting to the lunch table with an audible thump. “Go tell the whole fucking world for all I care.” My words are muffled, but I assume the only ones Emmett hears are ‘Go’ and ‘Tell’, which coincidentally are the only words he cares to hear.

“Not the whole world, sweetie.” Emmett says, pushing his chair away from the table. “Just the queer one.” 

I raise my head to glance at Daphne, follow her gaze, and watch Emmett practically flutter from the room. I never knew that a nonexistent sex life could give one man such pleasure. I can’t help but laugh in spite of myself. 

Daphne sighs. “So, how long has it been?”

“I said that I didn’t know.” I don’t know why I bother; it’s obvious she can tell I’m not exactly being truthful.

“I know what you said, but I’ve seen you in class, in the halls, and in here. You’re preoccupied, staring into space, and I know it has nothing to do with your parents.”

She’s right about that fact and it not having to do with my parents. Though, I wish it did. Conceding, I mumble the answer and she catches enough of it to know that I’ve been counting, daily as well as hourly.

“See, it wasn’t that hard.”

“We’re just friends.” I say it more for my benefit because I don’t think it’s gotten drilled into my brain enough over the last few weeks or so.

“And that’s all you’ll ever be.” Daphne looks sad, sympathetic even, and I have to look away. “He’s not cut out for what you need, Justin. It’s better that you know this now, when there’s still time for you to – to get out.”

“Get out of what?” And what do _I_ need that he isn’t cut out for?

“Whatever it is you started that night because you _did_ start something. End it.”

It wasn’t a warning, merely a suggestion, one brought on from a worried ally.

“We’re just friends.” I repeat more adamantly this time. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Mom!” I call when I walk inside the front door of the house. I finished my shift at the diner a half hour ago and walked home. “Mom, where are you?”

I can hear Molly chattering in the kitchen, she’s excited about something, a spelling bee possibly. They have those almost every day from what I can remember. I get closer and can smell dinner cooking, pot roast maybe. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

Mom jumps and then laughs. “Justin, sweetheart, I didn’t hear you. I must have been paying attention to Molly.”

“S’okay.” I answer as I wrap my jacket around the back of the swivel chair. “Finish your story, Mol.”

As she chatters away, I grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard. “And we’re in pairs and we get to choose an egg and if we’re really, really good then we’ll be able to see if the eggs hatch and if we did it right and our egg hatches, then we should be able to bring them home, but my partner said that her mom and dad would never let her have a baby chick and that means that our baby chick would be an orphan and I really don’t want it to be an orphan because that would be sad and would you want to be an orphan? I didn’t think so. Can I bring home the baby chick?”

I can see Mom roll her eyes in my direction. I shrug in response. “Don’t look at me, you’re the parent.”

“We’ll have to wait and see how well you do on your project. What if the egg doesn’t hatch?”

“It’ll hatch.” Molly says it so adamantly that I can’t believe it won’t. She slides from the stool and grabs her backpack. “I’m gonna go upstairs and read the whole chapter over again so that I can make sure that the egg will hatch.” She bounds from the room and I can hear her race up the stairs.

“You should of just said no.”

“If it makes her do her homework…”

I stare at my mother and wonder where she’s been the last five years. “Molly always does her homework. She’s going to die doing homework. She’s the smartest fourth grader I know.”

She shrugs and changes the subject. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good, I guess. Dad call?”

“You will talk endlessly about your sister, but you always close off the subject on yourself. Why is that?”

“I’m not narcissistic. You should be thrilled.” I take a drink from the can of Diet, ignoring the glass in front of me. I think it’s my night for dishes.

“I want to know what’s going on in your life.”

Believe me, Mom, you really don’t. “I go to school, I work, and I come home. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

She sighs and I take a sip from my drink. “He hasn’t called.” I give her an inquisitive look. “Your father. He hasn’t called.”

I nod my head and take another drink. A week ago he called with another excuse, another lie enveloped in glittery wrapping. He’s too busy and wouldn’t have the time to tend to a ten year olds needs. When he has the time, he’ll call. Until then Molly waits.

“And what do you think that means?” I ask.

She knows what it means, doesn’t want to say it aloud for fear that Molly might be listening, might hear the answer, and finally know what I’ve known all along. That our father, our sperm donor, is a selfish prick. “I – I think it means that he’s working a lot. That he can’t get time away to pay attention to her and get her settled.”

I shake my head; look down at the tile on the island. “You’re still making excuses for him. It’s second nature to you now, isn’t it?” She thinks its rhetorical question. “Isn’t it? You know the reason why he’s suddenly become busy, why he wanted her two weeks ago, and suddenly changes his mind. You know! You refuse to see it, but you know.”

She averts her eyes, looks at the floor. Her voice is low, almost inaudible, but there’s a hint of strength behind it. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then quit ignoring it for once.” I get up and leave the room, my statement hanging in the air.

I go to bed that night angry, angry at my dad for not following through, angry at my mom for standing up for him and making excuses, angry at myself for letting everything get to me the way it does…angry for the sake of being angry.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It’s Saturday, I’ve slept the morning away, loafed throughout the afternoon, and tonight I have a shift at the diner and that involves working with Brian. I’m not looking forward to it. I put my anger aside for now, realize that it’s not going to help me, and get ready for work. I wear the usual attire, make sure to grab my lightweight blue jean jacket --it’s getting chillier at night--, and leave for work.

“Sunshine, how’s it going?”

“It’s going.” I yell to a tall woman behind the diner counter. Kiki’s the drag version of Deb, but with brown hair and a smaller frame. She’s nice, easy to get along with, and a good listener to boot. “You look tired, kid.”

“I’m fine.” I brush off her worries with a wave of my hand and proceed to the kitchen where I can grab an apron to start work.

It’s still early evening and thus quiet in the diner. It’s past dinner, not quite time for the Babylon and Woody’s crowds to slither in. The hustlers have yet to emerge from their hiding spots and so, the only occupants of the diner are the few of us that work here and a patron or two. The lack of activity is making it very difficult for me to continue dodging questions and looks from a certain person; Brian. I’ve been avoiding him all night and it’s beginning to look obvious.

 

The thing is, I was fine with the interaction between Brian and I after that night --limited as it was-- and fully believed in our ability to be nothing but platonic. Occasionally, I would accompany the boys to Woody’s, the diner, and possibly Babylon. We’d have fun, drinking and laughing with each other. Michael and I would play pool while Brian got his rocks off in the bathroom. Brian and I would talk in class, in the halls, and occasionally he’d eat lunch with the rest of us bottom feeders. I never second guessed it, never glanced back and rethought anything, until I talked with Daphne. 

Now, I’m all-aflutter with nervousness, worry, and it’s annoying. Now, I can’t concentrate for fear that something I say might suggest I want more than Brian does and I don’t want more. I think. 

Damn Daphne and her accusations. She’s putting ideas in my head. 

He catches me wiping down a table for the third time. Nobody’s used it since I got here, but it’s the farthest one away from him. 

“Sunshine.”

I don’t look at him, no direct eye contact and I won’t crumble. I don’t know when I decided to throw my philosophy of no relationships out the window. It might have been when we danced at Babylon, or when we made out at the park, but I think it was the first time I felt him inside of me. Sex changes people, I’ve heard, but never believed it, until now.

“Justin.” Brian says it with more force, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance in his direction to acknowledge that I’ve heard him, but continue to scrub at an imaginary spot on the table. “Finally, you’ve been avoiding me all night.”

“Not really.” I mumble, still scrubbing.

We’re just friends. It’s my mantra, my philosophy, something to say to myself for the calming affect. If you say it enough you actually believe that’s what you want too.

“Whatever. Listen, Mikey and I are going to Babylon after my shift. You wanna tag along?”

I shake my head. “I should get home.” My mind searches for a plausible reason as to why I can’t join them. “I’ve got homework and things.”

“Your choice.” He reaches down, pauses my hand, and takes the rag from it. “You’ll wear a hole through the table.”

He turns and I watch him leave. I continue to stay away from him for the rest of the night. I watch Mikey enter the diner with a smile plastered on his face, watch Brian leave with him. I finish my shift and take the long walk home. Alone, which is a feeling I’m acclimating myself to.

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~*

It wasn’t a pity invite. 

I don’t do pity. It makes me gag…among other things.

So, that’s enough to realize I wouldn’t invite somebody if I didn’t want them there. Why _did_ I want him? I asked myself the same thing before, during, and after the question emerged. I ask myself again, long after the night has ended, and I still come up with the same answer.

Because he’s Justin.

 

Whatever that means, whatever that implies, I don’t know.

And I’ll probably lay in bed forever thinking about it. Wondering about it. Or I can deal with it, live with it, and push it aside. Because I don’t think the answer is going to change in ten hours or in ten days. 

Damn it all if I’m not fond of the little bastard!


	14. Only Seventeen

*~*~Brian’s POV~*~* 

I think that I messed something up that night with Justin. I think that I should have made my intentions clear from the beginning, before the park, before the walk to the car. I should have told him what I was all about long before, but that’s in the past now and I can’t fix it. 

Plus, I don’t even know if that’s the problem. The first couple of weeks after it occurred, he was fine, or so it seemed. We hung out, laughed, joke around, but now things are weird. If he doesn’t run away from me all together, he’ll usually decline my invitations. I don’t even think that he’s been to Babylon since then.

He doesn’t talk to me, in class or out of, and I don’t want to push him. I hate when people do that and I’d only be a hypocrite if I expected immediate results. The only person that he’ll really speak to, and I mean beyond the monosyllabic grunts I receive, is Deb. I’ve asked her what they discuss, but the only thing she says is that it’s none of my business.

I asked her if she could at least tell me if he was okay.

She answered in a curt tone that if he were, it wouldn’t be with any thanks to me. 

I realized I was getting nowhere this way and instead decided that the best way to get something done is to do it yourself. So, I’m going to make him sit down and fill me in, tell me what the fuck is wrong, and see if there’s a chance I can fix it.

 

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

I meet Daphne at her locker after last class. It’s a routine now so that if I should happen to run into Chris, either literally or figuratively, I have some sort of back up. He’s silently declared me as his favorite “punching bag” since the incident in the hall. He hasn’t been very confrontational (read: no punching, kicking, biting, etc.); it’s basically been the evil eye. I figure he’s plotting in his head what he’ll do to me when he gets the right moment alone with me, so I’ve avoided giving him any opportunity. 

I don’t really see it as being a coward or running from my problem. I view it more as being resourceful as well as safe.

So, I’m leaning against Daphne’s locker, humming a song and impatiently waiting for her, when Brian rounds the corner. He sees me and smiles, runs a hand through his hair to smooth it down, and walks towards me. I look down, right, left, up, and settle on opening my English required reading, currently _Lord of the Flies_. 

I smell him before he gets three feet from me. I can recognize that sweet scent of Dolce and Gabbana anywhere, which at eighty dollars for a three-ounce bottle better smell good. He gets right up next to me and clears his throat. I fake being so into my book that I don’t hear him. He does it again only this time louder. I look up, who are we kidding, there is no way I would choose Ralph or Piggy over Brian.

“Sorry, didn’t see you standing there.” I say with a bored tone. He sees right through me and I wonder if it’s really that easy or if he has a gift. 

He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath. “We need to talk, meet me in the courtyard when you’re done.” 

Then he’s gone, breezing by Daphne on his way out. She glances at me, then back over her shoulder, and then back at me. I shrug my shoulders.

“What was that all about?” She asks while dialing the lock.

I shrug again. “He wants me to meet him in the courtyard when I’m done.”

Daphne rolls her eyes and shoves a few books into her locker. I like to stare at the posters she has canvassing the door, Nelly, Usher, and some Abercrombie guy with a wet chest. He’s already good looking; the water just emphasizes his hotness. Anyway, Daphne’s babbling on about how it’s a good thing that one of us finally got the balls to decide we needed to talk because she was getting tired of me moping (I don’t mope), and that if this had carried on any longer she was going to march up to Brian and tell him everything.

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Just a couple weeks ago, you were telling me that I needed to, quote, end whatever it is I started because I _did_ start something, unquote, and now you’re telling me that you want me to talk to him. What’s that about?”

Daphne grabs her backpack and zips up the little front pouch before slamming her locker and tossing her bag over her shoulder. She turns to me and places one hand on her hip. “When I said that, I didn’t mean for you to run and hide.”

Technically, I never hid; all I did was avoid, which I must say I’ve become a connoisseur on. 

“So, what are you going to say to him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just throw him a big sob story about my parents and the divorce blah, blah, blah. It’ll get him off my back and it won’t really ruin whatever friendship we have.”

“Don’t you want to tell him the truth?” She’s honestly asking this.

I don’t bother to say anything; I figure that’s answer enough.

“Just…” Daphne hesitates while she searches her head for the right thing to say. “Just be true to yourself.”

I watch her turn and walk out the mahogany, double doors towards the parking lot. I continue forward and make a right at the single, glass door that leads to the courtyard. The courtyard, Daphne told me, once housed a massive amount of weeds and broken benches. Then, in the late 80’s, early 90’s, during the whole 'We Are the World' phenomenon, the S.A.V.E (Students Against A Vanishing Earth) group was taken off paper and brought into fruition. They lobbied the question of “how are we supposed to care about our planet when we don’t even care about our school” to the committee, which gave them the green light to do what they will with the dilapidated grounds. In a matter of months, it was transformed into the best place to study, eat lunch, or hang out, weather permitting of course. It’s now mowed regularly as per janitorial command and maintained by the many generations of hippie-wanna-bes and green peacers.

Brian is currently sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a tall tree. Don’t ask me what kind, I am not in S.A.V.E. nor am I aspiring to be. What I do know is that Brian looks extremely hot and very sexy. His eyes are closed and the top three buttons of his crimson shirt are undone. I push open the door and walk towards him. One eye peeks open and then closes again once he sees who it is. I place my bag on the ground and sit on a wooden bench facing Brian.

“I don’t bite.” Brian says with a grin. “Unless you want me to.”

I hate the sexual innuendo he uses. “I’m fine right here.”

He lifts his head and looks straight at me. The grin has disappeared and I can’t tell if it’s concern for my well-being or pity for my situation that has replaced it. I remind myself that Brian Kinney doesn’t do pity because it makes his dick soft. Michael told me that one time when I was with them at Woody’s. Either way, he’s suddenly become serious. Brian stands up and brushes the loose grass from his clothes.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks taking a seat next to me. I don’t look at him. I keep my gaze transfixed on the ground in front of me. “Did you think that I wouldn’t notice?”

No, I want to tell him, I didn’t think that you’d care. Instead, I don’t say anything.

“This isn’t healthy for you.” He says and I almost believe that he’s worried. “Your grade in class is fine now, but if you don’t start participating…” 

“I don’t like speaking in front of people.” I whisper, but still keep my eyes on somewhere else. 

“He speaks.” Brian mumbles and fidgets with his arm cuff. He keeps buttoning and unbuttoning, rolling it up, and then straightening it again. He sighs. I’m beginning to believe that he didn’t come prepared; he doesn’t have a speech, an altercation ready in his mind. We’re on even ground here. 

“I’m fine, Brian.” 

He nods his head, but he doesn’t believe it. “You don’t seem to be. You won’t talk to me, won’t hang out anymore. I don’t even think you’ve been to Babylon at all. You’ve shunned all of us except for Deb. What gives?”

I could tell him the truth. That I don’t want to go to Babylon because I know that he’ll be there. That I’ll see him with other guys, dancing, kissing, and I don’t need that. I could tell him that my avoiding him is my only ability to control the situation because otherwise he has total dominance over me.

I could tell him that I’ve hung out enough to know that, if I continue, I’ll end up like Mikey. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be the friend that sneaks him home drunk, hoping to God that his parents don’t wake up. To hear him say ‘Sunshine’ and know that it’s only in a platonic manner. That might be okay for some people, but not for me. I deserve more. Better.

“Its just life, Brian.” I partially lie. “My parents are fighting, my sister wants to know why she can’t go home, and my mom is still making excuses. Chris Hobbs is probably plotting against me as we speak and I can’t do anything to him because I’m just a silly faggot.” My voice holds more edge than I intended. I spread my arms out to the sides. “Look at me, do you see any bruises, any injuries?”

He shakes his head no.

“That’s because I’m fine. My refusal to get up in front of a class full of pre-angst teenagers who thrive on the reruns of _Dawson’s Creek_ is not a reason to worry. I’m fine.” 

I stand and sling my bag over my shoulder, reassure him once again that I’m just the product of a broken home, and then rush through the glass door and down the hall towards the parking lot. I don’t give him time to see through my façade, or speak back against my reason. He did his part by coming to me and I did mine by giving him an answer. It may not have been truthful, but it was an answer nonetheless. 

He already has my heart, isn’t that enough? Why does he have to know about it, too?


	15. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: I know that it seems like Justin is heading down a bad path, but if you stick around you'll see that he's just trying to find his own person.

*~*~Justin’s POV~*~*

It’s been over two weeks since I had my chat with Brian. I’ve begun to talk with him more during class and at work. In turn, he’s let off a bit on pressuring me to accompany him places. Daphne is disappointed that I didn’t tell him the truth, but she doesn’t understand how much that would’ve taken away from me. Emmett believes that in order for me to get over him, I must get under somebody else.

Everyone has an opinion. 

I choose to follow Emmett’s advice and also my own, that if I continue to hide out it will only show how much of an affect Brian’s had on me. My solution may not be well thought out, but that hasn’t stopped me from coming to Babylon almost every night this week. I sneak out after my mother has crawled into bed and I can hear the soft snore coming from her room. 

I make it to Babylon where after the first couple of times the bouncer greets me with a nod and no cover charge. I don’t have to stand in line anymore. I’m well known. 

The first night there I observe the masses from afar, drink like a fish, and somehow stumble home to my bed. Everything was appealing, but nothing drew me in.

I saw Brian with two different guys that night. 

He didn’t see me.

The next night, I dance with a group of guys, accept drinks from an older man named Paul. He has dark hair, deep complexion, and sultry eyes. I’m guessing he is Italian. He wants to go to the backroom and I decline his offer. 

I go home without seeing Brian at all.

The night after that, there is Bobby and Adam, both equally handsome with fair tans and dirty, blonde, crew cuts. They are older, in college, and belong to the same fraternity. They want to fuck me, but all I allow is kissing. 

Brian sees me that night. 

Tonight, there’s Philip, he’s French with dark hair and a fair complexion. He has amazingly dark eyes that I could get lost in. He’s been supplying me with drinks since I walked through the door almost two hours ago. He speaks so eloquently and with such a deep accent that I swoon. It’s edging close to 1:30 and I remind myself that I have to work in the morning.

“Hey Phil, it’s getting late and I gotta work.” I slur my words and it comes out in a big blob. 

“The night is still young and so are we.” He says with a lot of grace.

I laugh because it’s cheesy. He takes offense to it and I didn’t mean for that to happen. Philip mutters something about ‘Stupeed Amereecans’. I run my hand through his hair and pull him to me for a tongue-filled kiss because I don’t want to part on bad terms. He takes that as an apology and wraps his long arms around me once again. It’s not until after I swallow that I realize he slipped me a pill. Sneaky bastard. I’m too drunk to care; I wrap my arms around his neck and sway with the music. We dance until last call when I make Philip buy me the largest drink they have. I finish it quickly and then stagger out the door and away from that place. It’s two o’clock and time for grease filled diner food.

“Jesus.” Kiki gasps when she sees me wobble through the door. I’m on cloud nine after having downed that drink so quickly, but I know it’s only a matter of time until before I start to come down. 

“Hi!” I exclaim happily with a little wave. I find my way to a booth in the back and lean against the wall sprawling across the rest of it. I lean my head back and close my eyes.

When I open them again I feel somebody shaking me. “Get the fuck off.” My vision focuses and I see Deb’s face, concern written all over it, in front of me.

“This isn’t a motel, Sunshine.” She pushes my legs off the bench and sits down next to me. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” I grumble trying to clear my head, but I think that I’m still drunk and Frenchy’s pill is extremely enjoyable. There is an array of colors in front of me. “What time is it?”

“Early.” Deb shakes her head as she looks at me. She stands up and walks to the counter. When she returns Brian is by her side at the end of the table. “You’re not working your shift like this. Brian is going to take you home.” 

I stand up, ready to protest that I’m a big boy and able to handle myself. I’m wobbly and giddy, neither very impressive. Brian snakes his arm around me and leaves it on my hip, then practically drags me from the diner.

We walk the distance in silence, well sort of; I’m still completely giddy and can’t stop laughing. His face has a pissy scowl on it and he keeps muttering something under his breath. 

“What the fuck?” I ask thoroughly annoyed. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Brian huffs and lets go of me. I teeter and fall to the ground, but it’s okay, doesn’t hurt. We’re outside my house now. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Yes, yes, you do.” I stand with slight difficulty. Brian reaches out and steadies me. “You’ve had a problem the whole fucking walk home. I want to know what your deal is.” I finish with my hands on my hips, foot tapping expectantly.

“’My deal’ is you.” Brian hisses through clenched teeth. “What the hell do you think you’re doing to yourself?”

“I am having fun.” I throw back facetiously. 

Brian shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You call this fun? Drinking yourself to oblivion every night, fawning yourself over everything that walks, and being high on…on whatever the hell it is you took.”

I don’t know what I took or more appropriately what was given to me. I think it was E though, because right now I feel like I’m flying and Brian’s trying to ground me against my will. “Don’t you?” I stagger and decide to sit down. “I know you’ve been doing this a lot longer than me, Mr. Expert. I’m just trying to catch up.”

“This isn’t you, Sunshine. You like to play pool at Woody’s. Joke with Mikey. Draw.” The look on my face makes him smile. I’ve never told him about my art. “I’ve seen you doodling on napkins. You’re good.” He says after a beat.

“Yeah, that’s a matter of opinion.” My father doesn’t like the fact that I want to be an artist.

“Even so.” He takes a breath. “None of that stuff includes taking drugs—either willingly or not, which we’ll discuss later--by a middle-aged man.”

Oddly, I feel the need to defend Philip. “He’s not middle-aged.

“Irrelevant. Why are you doing it?”

Brian looms over me, concern on his face, and I don’t know how to answer him, so I shrug.

“There has to be a reason. Nobody wakes up one morning and decides to curve their lifestyle this way.

How do you tell somebody that you’re feelings are greater than theirs could ever be? It should be obvious by now that I’ve tried numerous ways to get over that fact. I tried to be his friend, play pool, tell jokes, but I’d inevitable get left alone or with Mikey. So, I switched and tried the ‘ignoring you’ way, but he didn’t like that either. After our talk, I tried a combination. I limited my outings, but still talked to Brian. Nothing seemed to work, until now. Now, I go out and I can drink away my problem. The hurt of seeing him go to the backroom can’t get through my shield of vodka.

“I didn’t know you like vodka.”

The look on his face combined with that sentence lets me know that everything I just thought actually came tumbling out of my mouth.

“Oh shit!” I clasp my hand over my mouth, but the damage is already done. “Brian...” I’m speechless.

“It’s okay, Justin.” Brian says taking a seat next to me on the stoop. “I kind of assumed this already.”

I’m vowing right here and now to never, ever, take any drugs or drink so heavily again.

”I don’t know why I just said all that stuff, Brian. It must be the drugs and the booze, really, I’m fine.”

“You’re right about it being the drugs.” He lowers his head. “You wouldn’t have said it with your inhibitions intact.”

I’m in denial about this and feel the need to bash it into the ground. I want to erase what just happened. “Brian, I really don’t think that’s true.”

”Justin, it’s okay. Mikey feels the same way about me and has ever since we were fourteen, but he knows nothing’s ever going to happen. You’ll get over it or learn to deal with it the same way he does, I assure you.”

Fuck that! “I am not like Mikey nor do I ever want to be that way.”

Brian stares blankly back at me. “I need to get back to work.”

I debate whether to ask for help and decide that I better because the stairs are tall, and though I’m beginning to sober up, I know I’ll never make it without help. “Could you just help me get to my room? You know where it is.”

“Yeah.” Brian says with a smile. “I know.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Justin!” I hear through the fog in my brain. “It’s close to three, get your ass out of bed. You have some explaining to do.” I throw the covers off and groggily climb from my soft abode. I shuffle down the stairs and into the living room.

“Jesus, you look like shit.” My mother nicely points out. “Why didn’t you go to work today?”

“I did and they sent me home. I feel like I got hit by a Mac truck.” My head is pounding and my stomach is earning the gold medal in gymnastics. "Can I go back to bed?” 

“Not yet.” She sits on the couch and pats the seat next to her. I opt to sit on the opposite couch given that I’ve yet to shower and probably reek of alcohol. “Where were you last night and all the nights before that?”

I didn’t think she noticed. “I went out.”

“That’s all you’re going to say, ‘I went out’?” She folds her hands in her lap and purses her lips. “Justin, are you having sex?”

“What!!” I definitely need some drugs if this is the conversation we’re going to have. “Where’d that come from?”

“If you are, I just want you to be safe. Do you have a…a boyfriend?”

“Mom, I’m not talking with you about this.”

“Maybe you should talk to your father.”

“Fuck no!” I practically scream and stand up. “I’m sure that he wants to have that conversation. Are you crazy?”

“I just want to be sure that you’re safe.” She says again. “I don’t know where you go, or who you’re with, or when you’re coming back.”

“Mom, I’m just trying to live my life. If you really knew me then you’d know I wouldn’t disappoint you.”

She sighs and nods her head. “That’s good. You could never be a disappointment, Justin. I know that.”

“Okay.” I walk towards the stairs. “I’m safe, Mom.” I say before going back up to my room and falling asleep.


	16. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: So, I don't know how many of you did or didn't comment, but feel free to do so again. Lol..i like my feedback...

* * *

*~*~Brian's POV~*~*

I finish my nine-hour shift at the diner and am almost out the door when Deb calls me back. I turn around with a sigh and trudge back to the counter. 

"Yes?" I say with a fake smile.

"Have a seat, kiddo."She snaps her gum and wads her apron up before throwing it on the counter. "So, did you find out what that was all about earlier?"

I laugh. "Yeah, I guess you can say that."

"Well."

I shrug."I assume you already know."

"That's probably not a bad assumption." Deb leans closer to me and stares me down. She's the only person who can do that and give me the shivers.

"Deb, you know I can't give him what he wants."

She shakes her head and lets out a low whistle. "Brian, it's not that you can't; it's that you won't." Her tone softens. "He's beating himself up over you. Justin wants to be in your life any way that he can and I think that scares him because he doesn't want to end up like somebody else that we know." Deb nods her head toward the door where Michael stands with a grin on his face. She looks back at me with a smile on her face. "Besides, what would you do with two best friends?"

She doesn't want an answer, which I'm thankful for because I can't give her one. I don't know what I want to do with this newfound knowledge. I need to think about this, figure out what to say, what to do. 

"Brian?" Michael nudges me in the arm with his elbow. I slide off the bench with a quick thanks to Deb and exit the diner. "Where we going today?"

"I need to do some thinking, Mikey." I tell him once we are outside amongst the people. He looks at me, confusion written across his baby face. Mikey will be fourteen forever, like Peter Pan.

"But Bri, I thought we were going to hang out. I thought that today was our day. You've been so busy with Penn State and now student teaching; we never see each other anymore." Mikey begins to pout so I step closer and rest my hand on his shoulder.

"Not today, Mikey. Today, I need to think about some things that just happened." He scrunches his face and then seems to accept this answer. I pat his shoulder one last time before turning and walking to where I parked my car. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I open the front door and the hinges squeak, letting whomever is inside know that they're not alone. The door slams behind me from a gust of wind as I step inside the living room. I toe off my sneaker at the entranceway and toss my jacket onto the back of the teal lazy boy. I hear the scraping of wood against the linoleum floor coming from the kitchen and my back stiffens.

"That you, boy?" A gruff voice calls. I glance at my watch, barely four and my old man's completely sloshed.

"Yeah, Pop." I call back and make my way to the stairs, to my room.

"Not so fast." He yells knowing full well where I'm going. I can see him from where I stand at the foot of the stairs. He's worse than I thought.

"What, Pop?" I ask though I know what he's going to say. It's the usual whenever I come home this early. He's too drunk to know what day it is or to even know that I'm old enough to handle my own life. "I've got places to be."

"Don't bullshit me, boy." He warns as he gets closer to me, pointing a finger in my face. He looks older with gray through his once brown hair. He's the same height as me and can no longer tower over me. "What ya doing home in the middle of the afternoon? I don't want any freeloaders. You lose that fancy job you had?"

"No, Pop." I answer with a slight eye roll. "I finished my shift for today."

Pop scrunches his face and thinks about what I said, tries to read my face to see if I'm lying to him. "You think you're so tough." He mumbles and I watch as he raises his hand, but I stand my ground, don't move an inch. He decides against it, instead he turns and grabs the bottle of whiskey off the counter. I used to be scared of him when he'd get like this and rightly so. He hasn't hit me in awhile, save for when he's extremely pissed off, or extremely drunk, which usually coincide. I've learned to hit back though.

I race up the stairs and to my room where I fall on my bed. I grab the red pack of Marlboros from my bedside table and light one. After the third puff I can feel my muscles relax and my brain unclog. What do I do about Justin? 

Isn't that the question of the day?

I usually do my best thinking with alcohol and my dick up an ass, but it's too early to go to Babylon. I'd usually raid the liquor cabinet, but with my old man downstairs I'm not going to risk it. 

I can't just sit here.

I finish this cigarette and light another, then finish that and light yet another, and still I have no clue as to what to do or say. Deb's right and Justin's right that I don't need another Michae --one is more than enough, but the thing that I hate to admit is that Justin's already more than Michael could ever be. Mikey and I were friends first and as such could never be lovers, but Justin and I started off different. I glance at my watch; I've been up here for an hour, plenty of time for my old man to pass out. I remove my t-shirt and don a black beater.

"Where you going, boy?" My pop calls from the kitchen when I come down the stairs.

"Out." I answer, grabbing my jacket off the chair. I slip on my shoes and am almost out the door when my Pop comes swaggering into the living room. 

"Worthless, piece of shit." My dad mumbles and I realize that he's ready for a fight. "You're never going to amount to nothing."

"You've told me before, Pop." I say attempting to get out the front door unscathed, but as luck would have it he flails his arm and makes contact. His fist lands right below my left eye and I'm sure there'lll be a mark. He sways back and forth and I know that he put all his energy into that one hit, so I guess he made it count. "Thanks." I say before flying out the door and down the steps to my car. The last thing I hear, before starting my car and driving off, is the thud as he hits the floor.

 

*~*~Justin's POV~*~*

I slept the day away and now I'm watching infomercials on the television downstairs. The only light on in the house is the lamp next to me. We have expanded digital cable, for only God knows why because nobody is home often enough to watch it, and I've flipped through every channel that we have to no avail. There's nothing worthwhile after midnight, which is why they invented expanded digital cable. 

Ironic, isn't it. 

I'm not tired, which probably isn't a good thing because I'll most likely end up going to bed at mid-afternoon and wake yet again to watch the endless supply of useless shit being sold to the insomnia-tainted masses.

Normally, this would seem like a good time to go to Babylon, drink a few, and hopefully find my way home. After what happened in the wee hours of this morning, I won't be seeing the inside of Babylon for quite some time. 

I won't be able to hang out with Michael, he'll view me as either a threat or a comrade, and I don't want to be seen as either. 

There's a rustling outside maybe, a wayward cat, or opossum. I get up to investigate, flip the outside porch light on, and carefully open the front door. That's when I hear it again, a scraping on the screen of the window. The breaking of glass quickly follows.

"Hello?" I call not bothering to hide the shaking in my voice. I've never been good with night noises, especially the ones where the origin is unknown.

"Sunshine." It's a slurred voice, but I know to whom it belongs.

"Brian, didn't you just berate and belittle me this morning, and then you come to me in the same condition." I stand high on my soapbox.

He follows my voice and his shadowy figure steps into the light. His hair is disheveled, his shirt untuct, and jacket half hanging off. The thing that catches my eye, makes my stomach flip, and breath stall in my chest, is the massive bruise beneath is eye. It's an ugly purple and navy. Not more than a few hours old. 

"Brian.."

"I'm okay, Sunshine." He answers and I'm not so sure that he is, but I lead him inside my home anyway.

"Did you get in a fight?" I question him as I remove his jacket and toss it on the arm of the sofa. "At Babylon or Woody's?"

He shakes his head no and falls back against the cushions. I untie each shoe and remove them, place them neatly beside the table. "It was just my old man." He gets quiet, I think he's falling asleep, but his eyes are still open.

"Brian, go to sleep." I command in a not-so-harsh voice. 

"Justin?"

"Hmmm?" I get up and walk over to the hall closet.

He rolls over, watching me with a glazed look in his eyes. "You can never be like Mikey. I don't know why I said that." He rolls back over and stares at the ceiling.

Sometime, during my moment of surprise Brian passes out, and I cover him up with a throw from the closet. 

I grab a seat on the opposite couch, mute the television, and listen to Brian breathe.


	17. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: Different perspective this time. Thanks to my beta CJ. Mucho gracias!

* * *

*~*~Justin's POV~*~*

Rubbing my finger over the lead and rough paper, I successfully shadow Brian's jaw. He grunts and I glance up to see if he changes position, but he just flinches. My attention turns back to my drawing and to Brian's features. 

"What are you doing?" Brian questions a few minutes later. I glance up from what Iï¿½m doing and smile at him. He's squinting and trying very hard not to move. 

"Go back to sleep and it won't matter what I'm doing." I tell him, smudging the contour of his shoulder. 

"Too late, Sunshine." Brian says with a raspy voice and a yawn. "I'm already up."

"In more ways than one, I see." I laugh, and then lower my voice to a whisper. "Only problem is that my mother is, also."

Brian chuckles and turns over onto his side and straightens the blanket on top of him. "Do you always sketch people without their permission?"

"Do you often show up on people's doorsteps unannounced? Drunk?"

Brian's jaw clenches, but he doesn't let the sudden reminder unsettle him that easily. "I asked you first."

"Childish." I mutter while closing the sketchbook and placing it on the table next to me. "Depends, I guess."

"On?"

"On if the subject is worthy of my time."

"I see." He says with a nod. "What time is it anyway?"

I notice that he's conveniently changing the subject so as not to answer my question. I'll let it go, this time. I don't want to push him after everything that's happened. "It's close to eleven." I say with a quick glance at the wall clock. 

He sits up with a groan and pushes the blanket to the side. "Was I pretty bad last night?"

"I've seen worse." I answer with a slight shrug. Hell, I've probably been worse since I met him. 

"Justin."

And I know what he wants to say, but I don't give him the easy out this time because I need to hear it. If this...this  
\--whatever the fuck we are--is going to be anything then he needs to say it. "Yes." I say with a smile.

"Well." He grimaces and scrubs a hand over his face. "You know what I'm trying to say."

Not gonna be that easy.

I stand up and make my way to him. I kneel on the floor in front of him, between his legs, hands resting on his knees. "Actually, Mr. Kinney, I have not a clue." He's giving me a bitchy look, a pleading look that begs to be left off. Just this once.

"I know last night I said some things." He sighs and looks at his hands. "You're a shit, you know that. Last night when I said that you could never be Mikey. It still stands."

I let out the breath that I was holding and give him a faint smile. "You remember that, huh?"

He's acting nonchalant, which I guess is a good sign because it means he's come to terms with it. "Had to be said."

I nod and purse my lips, ready to say more, that I understand, that I don't expect him to write it in the sky, that I'm glad he said it all the same. But nothing comes out and I think it's for the best. Instead, I reach over and clasp my hand atop his. It's a small gesture, but to Brian says more than words ever could.

He clears his throat and stands up. I let my hand fall from his and watch him with eyes wide. "Thanks." He whispers with a rough edge and then adds for his own security. "For letting me stay."

I also stand and shove my hands in my front pockets. "The least I could do."

He grabs his jacket off the back of the chair and walks backwards to the front door. "Well." Brian leans in and I close my eyes, waiting for the touch of his lips against mine, the thrust of his moist tongue, but it doesn't come. Instead, I feel his forehead nuzzle my neck, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into him for a moment more intimate than any kiss. 

I never want this moment to end.

 

*~*~Jenniferï¿½s POV~*~*

I knew the moment I saw Justin's face when Brian's name was first mentioned that he was a goner. He means more to Justin than any person I've met thus far. 

More than his friend Daphne whom I've seen around the house a couple of times.

Which scares me because now I've seen him with his leather jacket, drinking until all hours of the night, and his devil-may-care attitude. He's going to hurt my son.

I want to know him, know about him, what he likes, what he does, what he's about, which is why I invite him to breakfast.

He looks startled when I interrupt their...moment, but he reclaims himself well. "No, but thank you."

Polite, but with an edge. "I insist. It's all made and waiting in the kitchen." I usher him and Justin towards the room, but not without a look of contempt from my son. We'll be having a discussion about this later.

Sometimes, I wish that Justin had been straight.

Things would be so different if he hadn't sprung the news on us. Then, I become angry with myself for even thinking it. I know Justin believes that I have a problem with his lifestyle, with his being gay. Which may have been true at first, but I got over that long ago. Unlike his father, who still believes it's a phase that can be grown out of. 

'It's not like a shirt, Craig', I told him. 'You can't just grow out of this.'

He shook his head, told me that no son of his could be a 'fucking fairy'. 

That's when I knew, knew that I couldn't go on with this man. Couldn't grow old with this man. This man who could abhor his own son because of whom he loves. I guess, for him it's just easier to believe that Justin will change.

"Mom." Justin says breaking through my thoughts. 

"Sorry, honey." I smile and grab plates for the boys. "Dig in."

Brian sits down tentatively, eyeing Justin the entire time. I watch them closely, barely touching my food, to see the hidden signals they pass back and forth. They're closer than I thought, and I realize, closer than they think.

"Brian, do you like working at the diner?"

He shrugs and cuts the pancake with his fork. "It's an income and they treat me right."

I nod. "And you're going to school?"

He nods and I notice he's not going to give up any more information besides that. "What are you studying?"

"Mother!" Justin hisses through clenched teeth. I note the look he's giving me and back off.

Brian throws a smile Justin's way and then turns back to me. "It's okay. I'm actually thinking about different career paths. I know that some degrees while easily obtained are also very unmarketable. Just something to think about, I guess."

I note that he never actually answers my question. The rest of the meal carries on in virtual silence. I can tell both boys would like to hurry and get away from here.

"Thanks, Mrs. Taylor." Brian says as he stands and places his dish in the sink. 

He reaches for Justin's, but I stop him. "You don't have to clear the table, Brian." 

"Force of habit."

Justin stands, grabbing my plate as well as his, and places them with Brian's. "I'll be back." He says before rushing out.

I don't stop him because it's been so long since I've seen him smile. Brian makes him smile. That's all I want for my son, all any mother wants for their child. Somebody to love them, to make them smile, and who am I to stop that? As long as the loving gets done, I have no say.

I'll be here, waiting, to pick up the pieces, to mend the broken heart.


	18. Only Seventeen

Author's Note: I know it's not all that long, but the next chapter will come much quicker. Thanks!!

* * *

*~*~Justin's POV~*~*

I'm lying on my bed with the navy blue sheet draped over my naked torso. It's early morning and the sun hasnï¿½t even risen, yet. Brian and I stayed up all night fucking and talking. I'm kind of tired. Brian's dressing himself in the middle of the room, in front of the window, against the dark night, and I'm watching. He slips one muscular leg into the pant-leg of his Levi's before addressing the question I asked him a while ago.

"Thanksgiving, Justinï¿½" He asks with a hint of something in his voice. It's not mockery, or sarcasm, or disdain, or any of the other tones he's prone to using when he doesn't agree with what I'm asking of him.

"Yes, Brian, Thanksgiving. Well, dinner if you want me to be more specific." Maybe I shouldn't have asked him.

He doesn't bother to button his jeans; just zips the fly and moves on. He lifts his black tank top from the floor and twists it from inside out to right side in before slipping it over his head. He straightens it, smoothes the material across his torso, and then moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

"My parents have never been very big on holidays, you know. So I --"

"Which is why we should start celebrating them over here...together." I hesitate to throw in the last part because, even after two months has passed, he's still not acknowledging that there's an 'us'. He says that we fuck others, which doesn't exactly make what we have an 'us'; I say that I don't fuck other people, so we _are_ an 'us'.

He raises an eyebrow in question, ignores what I just said, and continues with his thought. "I usually go to Deb's."

"Oh." I mutter while absentmindedly I play with the tag on my sheet. I don't bother to mask the disappointment at hearing he already has plans. I should have thought about that.

He scoots closer to me. "Why don't you come with me? I'm sure Deb won't care."

I smile, but shake my head. "My mother would never go for it. This being the first holiday without my dad and all."

Brian nods and purses his lips. He starts to apologize, an I-do-this-every-year speech on the horizon, but I stop him with a finger over the mouth and a well-placed kiss.

"I understand." I tell him and I do. "That's your tradition and I don't want you to stop because of me."

I glance outside and see that the sun is starting to creep through the trees across the road. I never realized how many colors are actually in a sunrise, and my brain scurries to log them all. I hate this time of day, early morning, when Brian has to leave so that my mother doesn't catch him here. She knows he spends the night, but Brian says that he'd rather avoid the awkward morning after routine. 

"I'd better get going," Brian sighs while staring out the window with me. He leans in and gives me a quick kiss with a slight bite and then stands. "I'll see you in class today?"

I nod and then he's gone, shutting the door quietly, and tiptoeing down the hall. I roll over and pull the covers to my chin; maybe I can get in a few extra minutes before my alarm goes off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I slump into school, neither bright eyed nor bushy tailed, and head straight for Daphne's locker. After Brian left this morning, I laid in bed and stared at the clock. I watched the minutes tick by and worried if I was pushing Brian into something; something that he doesn't want. Maybe him not wanting to do the whole Thanksgiving thing is his way of telling me he needs space. I mean...it's been two months and two months, hell, two hours is a long time for Brian when he's doing anything but fucking. 

I'm crazy, that's what Daphne says when I sidle up to her locker and voice my concerns.

"Brian doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do." Daph assures me while straightening her locker. "You're completely crazy to think otherwise."

"I...I just...Brian's...I don't know." I groan as I slump against the row of lockers.

"Exactly." Daphne states with a slam of her door for emphasis. "You don't know, so ask him."

She says it like it could ever be that easy, that I can ask Brian what he thinks or how he feels, and that he'll answer freely. He's never been that easy. I mean, look at how stubborn he was about getting together. 

"Now," Daphne begins after adjusting her pack and walking towards her first class. "I know that Brian can be kind of _vague_ at times."

I scoff at that and add a chuckle for good measure. "To say that Brian Kinney is vague is like saying the Statue of Liberty is sort of tall; Liberace was kind of sparkly; Helen Kell--"

"I get it!" Daphne interrupts with a cry. "You can't ask him or you can but he won't answer, either way."

"Then what can I do?" I ask once we're outside her class.

She leans against the doorframe and looks at the tiles on the floor. "Just because he already has plans for Thanksgiving, doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't want to be with you. Maybe he'll surprise you or maybe, you should surprise him."

The bell rings to signal that I'm late.

"Thanks, Daph." I give her a quick hug and then I'm off to my first class.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daphne smiles and gives a little wave when I walk into Communications. Brian is sitting at his desk going over peer evaluation sheets from our Demonstration speech. I demonstrated the importance of light and shading in pictures and/or paintings. He glances up and our eyes meet in a type of 'hello'. The corners of his lips twitch into a hidden smile, and then he goes back to his work. 

He looks hot in his white button down. The top button is undone and he went without a tie today. I want to jump him right here, but I don't. Instead, I walk over to Daphne.

"Hey." I greet Daphne with a smile and she pats the empty seat next to her. 

"He's just busy, J." She attempts to reassure me, but I don't need it.

I look at her and scoff. "I know, Daph." 

She raises her arms in concession and whispers softly. "I'm just saying..." She trails off and I feel bad for snipping at her, but I'm not some lovesick puppy.

I'm getting my notebook and folder from my backpack when a shadow looms over me. I glance up and see Brian's form silhouetted in the light. I place the folder on my desk and then look at him expectantly.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks slightly hesitant. "Outside?" 

I nod and push myself off the chair. He leads the way and then pulls me off to the side, away from the door and from the people.

"If this is about this morning." I say when he doesn't begin to talk. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." He assesses. "You look pissed off."

I can't lie to him and I don't want to. "Maybe I was this morning, but I'm not now. You do your thing and I'll do mine."

It's not until after he nods his head and goes back into the room that I realize what I said is the truth. We don't have to spend all our time together and Thanksgiving isn't that big of a holiday anyway. Or maybe Daph's right and I'll just have to surprise him. I've got time to figure it out.


End file.
